waiting for the rain
by pengiechan
Summary: Tsuchiya Kirie and Eyes Rutherford wait for their lives to begin - or a Hunter to bring it all tumbling down. Eventual EyesxKirie, in progress.
1. the reunion

**waiting for the rain**

* * *

Her rent has gone up _again_.

Tsuchiya Kirie makes a disgusted face at the half-crumpled letter she clutches in one hand, the other hand slowly guiding a steaming cup of black coffee toward her mouth. By now she's almost memorized the words on the page, but she still reads it again, if only to bring her temper to a fever pitch. _Due to these hard economic times, we regret to inform you…_

"Bullshit," she mutters, and downs half the coffee in one gulp. This is, she thinks - _knows_ \- the third time in two years that her good-for-nothing, leers-at-teenage-girls landlord has raised her rent, and he's used the same "hard economic times" excuse each time.

By now, she's almost 100% sure he's trying to force her out in favor of some renters from the nearby university. Especially because no one else's rent has gone up three times. And no one else has gotten in the asshole's face about the leering thing.

It's equally bullshit, she thinks, and crumples the paper just a little more, that she can't quite _afford_ that rent. Working as a forensic scientist for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police sounded like a glamorous job when she took it. Now?

"Not so fucking much," she says out loud, and sips her coffee. Turns out you don't get paid shit unless you're Narumi goddamned Kiyotaka with his genius fucking brain.

"Having a bad day, I presume."

Kirie is used enough to Eyes Rutherford making silent entrances to not spill her coffee all over her suit jacket (this time); instead she crumples up the letter and slams it down on the table. "How could you tell?"

"Would you like to share?" The pianist seats himself across from her, and just as she does every time there's a gap in between their meeting, she glances him over to see if anything's changed. He's about the same this time as the last - white hair cut to his chin, wearing black-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a suit that is _much too nice_ for a coffee shop like this one - and so she turns her eyes back to her coffee almost immediately. "I would be happy to - "

"It's an adult problem," she interrupts, sipping her drink. "Don't worry yourself."

"... I'm twenty-two," he responds.

She tries hide a smile at the hint of irritation in his voice. "Anyway, Raza-kun, what led you to calling me here this time? I heard something about you being in Japan again, but I thought your tour wasn't coming back this way until later."

"It will be concluding in Tokyo at the end of this week. I had some… business, to address, in between two of the stops." Eyes pauses to address a waitress and order a drink of his own before looking over at her. "And so I thought I would check on the situation with you."

"Ah. Business as usual then."

"Somewhat." He glances over his shoulder to be sure that the waitress is gone, that the hum of the tiny cafe will drown out his words, before leaning over the table to speak softly of matters only they - and a handful of others - still dare to talk about. "Has anything changed?"

"All quiet on my end." She puts down her cup, crossing her arms. "You?"

"I have nothing to share."

"I figured as much. To be honest, this job of mine has kept me so busy that even if I felt like taking up the duties of watching again, I don't think I could." She chews on her lip for a moment. "The others are…?"

"Asazuki and Takamachi have just begun their final year of university. Rio is currently stationed in Iraq." She notices a light smile settle on his face at the mention of the gray-haired Blade Child - a soft spot for him, she knows. "All is well with them."

"If you're back here, though, then…"

"I know," he responds, immediately, and the smile is gone. "I haven't been… yet. But I have been kept up to date regarding _his_ … condition."

Kirie chews on her lip again; she's regretting quitting smoking right now more than ever. Somehow this kind of conversation brings up a craving for nicotine like nothing else. "It's not looking good, you know."

"I understand."

"But as long as he's held on…" She picks up her cup, looks at the coffee, decides she isn't thirsty, and sets it back down again. "He's a fighter, that Ayumu-kun."

Eyes doesn't respond to that, and it's a statement that doesn't really need a response anyway, so Kirie leaves it alone. The waitress comes with his drink - coffee with steamed milk, no sugar - and he sips at it even though it's likely boiling, his blue eyes somewhere else, only the murmur of the other residents of this tiny cafe around them.

Their meetings are usually like this. Check-ins for the sake of formality, two people with nothing in common but a string of fate between them drinking coffee and pretending they had nothing to do with the way the world may have been, in even a small way, saved.

After five minutes Kirie has noticed the clock on the wall and is trying to think of a way to excuse herself that isn't rude, but Eyes' phone does it for her, buzzing itself nearly out of his jacket pocket. He removes it, looks at the number on the display, and sighs - the only explanation he needs to give - before standing. "I apologize."

"Duty calls." She gives him a lopsided smile. "I'll handle the bill this time. I owe you, right?"

He opens his mouth to protest, but the phone begins buzzing again in his hand. "... only this once," he says. "I _sincerely_ apologize - "

"You can't always be a gentleman, Raza-kun." She grins. "Hard as you try."

The face he makes at that is _preposterous_ , and she's trying hard not to laugh when he seems to remember something. "Ah," he murmurs, and tucks his phone away in his pocket - silenced for now, she guesses - before reaching into the inside of his suit coat. "I nearly forgot. I brought these for you."

"... huh?"

"Tickets," he says, and draws out an envelope that he places on the table in front of her, "for my final show of the tour. This Friday evening." His lips twitch slightly into what _might_ be a smile. "I would be honored if you would attend."

She doesn't touch the envelope. "You know I hate your music, right?"

"Consider it a favor to me."

"Raza-kun, seriously. I _hate_ piano music."

"Well," he says, and she catches what is an _actual_ smile as he turns on his heel to walk away, "perhaps you will have luck selling the tickets to pay your rent."

Kirie sputters something that is supposed to be an insult but sounds like childish babble as he leaves. _Just how long_ , she wonders, _was he standing there, before he_ …?

She groans out loud and finishes her coffee, now lukewarm. She's never been in the habit of doing favors for Eyes Rutherford, and she definitely doesn't want to start now, but she'll be damned if she lets him get away with _that_ insult.


	2. the concept of fate, thrown away

It's a little embarrassing, Kirie thinks, that she's past thirty years old and still has no one to see and nothing to do on a Friday night.

But _screw it_ , she thinks, as she steps off the train and looks up at the concert hall in front of her, looming large and bright against the darkening sky, she'll just make her own fun.

Assuming she can smuggle the bottle of vodka in her purse past security, that is.

* * *

The concert isn't _bad_ , really. And truth be told, Kirie doesn't _hate_ piano music.

What she does think of this Eyes Rutherford concert, though - completely sober, because the tickets were for _front row goddamned seats_ and she certainly couldn't drink in front of the row of guards protecting Eyes from… fangirls, she guesses - is that it's stale. All he's played in the last hour are cover songs, made famous by pianists long dead. And they've all been played perfectly.

The crowd's been eating it up, of course. Every sweep of her eyes across the packed theater behind her showed a sea of smiling faces, watery eyes, even flushed cheeks - _idiots_ , she'd muttered more than once - and hundreds of clapping hands. Eyes is amazing. Eyes is loved.

Eyes is nothing more than a puppet doing what the people want him to.

 _But that's just my cynical view on things_ , she reminds herself, slouching in her seat, drumming her fingertips along the armrest. At the moment he's playing a perfect rendition of some fast-paced thing with a lot of high notes, and the couple to her left is just eating it up; she wishes she could be as excited as they are.

Why _can't_ she be as excited as they are?

She can't remember the last time anything got her smiling like that. It was long before she became a Watcher, probably. Before the cigarettes and Narumi Kiyotaka and all his goddamn favors.

She drifts off into thought for a few minutes before becoming suddenly aware that the entire audience is on their feet, applauding, and that she should probably join in. But Eyes is already up from the piano bench, motioning for them to sit, and so they all do, murmuring to themselves loudly around her.

He comes to the edge of the stage with a microphone and tells the crowd he has one song remaining, which leads to a loud mix of reactions. Kirie begins to think about getting up and leaving -

"I have some very important news to share with you all this evening."

\- or not.

On the stage, Eyes is standing straight - taller than she remembers him looking from a distance - and his voice is loud and clear. Resolute, she thinks.

This will be important.

"After many years producing music with the Mars Record Company in Japan," he says to the crowd, "we have mutually agreed to end our contract. As of tomorrow morning, I will no longer be signed to the label."

A loud murmur sweeps through the room. The pianist immediately raises one hand, and the crowd quiets almost instantly. "Furthermore," he continues, "with the dissolution of my recording contract and departure from the label, this will be my final concert." He pauses. "I will be on hiatus from touring and recording music, effective immediately."

The theater _erupts_. Even Kirie's mouth drops open for a moment. On the stage, Eyes doesn't bow, doesn't apologize, doesn't give the _thank you for supporting me for all this time_ speech - only turns on his heel and walks back to the piano.

And as the room gradually grows quiet and still, the sounds of Liszt's _Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2_ , a piece that Kirie will later hear described on the news as "never played by Eyes Rutherford in concert before - and never to be played again," fills the air with notes so alternately dark and bright that it is almost haunting.

* * *

"Pardon me - Tsuchiya Kirie-san?"

Kirie has waited out the crowds before standing up to leave, and she is almost out of the theater when she hears someone call her name, followed by a tap on her shoulder. She turns to face a petite dark-haired woman who looks… irritated. "I apologize," the woman says (and not looking the least bit sorry), "but Rutherford-san asked me to bring you to see him."

"... he did?"

"Yes." The woman doesn't look like she can be bothered to explain any further. "Would you follow me, please?"

Kirie mostly feels like saying _hell no, I'm tired and I want to go home_ and doesn't exactly feel like chatting with a Blade Child, either, but she does suppose it would be rude to refuse. "Fine," she sighs, and follows the woman as she walks down the aisle toward the stage, flashes a badge at a guard by a side door, and leads her through a series of busy hallways.

They eventually walk inside a room that looks like a lounge, and it's here that the dark-haired woman turns to face Kirie, pushing a set of silver-rimmed glasses up on her nose. "If you could wait here, please," she says, gesturing to a couch.

"Ah - sure."

She leaves, practically slamming the door behind her. She's gone barely ten seconds before Kirie hears the squeak of another door opening - and looks across the room to see Eyes emerging from what she assumes is his dressing room, tuxedo coat gone and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. "Hello," he greets her, casually.

She practically jumps to her feet. "What the _hell_ \- "

"I apologize." He cuts her off easily, walking across the room to meet her. "I know that I have inconvenienced you. However, I wanted to speak with you again once I had settled my other business."

"You mean quitting your record label?" She shifts her weight to one heel, looking up at him as he stops in front of her. "Did you make me come here just to hear that?"

"No." He shakes his head, gesturing at the couch. "Please, sit."

"... you better start talking," she mutters, but sits back down, watching him closely as he takes a spot beside her. "I have better things to do, you know."

If Eyes knows this is a lie, he doesn't show it. "There is something I wanted to share with you earlier, but the cafe did not seem like… the appropriate time or place."

"Okay, fine. So out with it."

"Before I returned to Japan," he says, folding his hands together in his lap, "an anonymous person - a Hunter, I presume - contacted my record label and made a threat on my life."

Kirie sits up straight. "I _asked you_ if anything was going on!"

"And I said," he replies - with a hint of a wry smile - "that I had nothing to share."

"... semantics, Raza-kun." She grits her teeth. "Why are you only telling me this _now_?"

"The threat was dealt with in a way I found… unappealing." He holds her gaze for a moment before turning away. "This person claimed that if I returned to Japan, he would immediately take my life. My manager's decision was to keep my tour activity elsewhere for a long period of time, and she urged me to take up residence in another country." He pauses. "I was also surrounded by bodyguards at nearly all times."

"Sounds stressful." She raises an eyebrow. "So why _did_ you come back to Japan?"

He doesn't answer at first. When he does, his voice is stronger - _resolute_ , she thinks again, just as it was when he stood on stage and announced his retirement. "I have no desire to live what remains of my life, as long or as short as it may be, in fear. Any few Hunters that remain active can be assumed to be far out of reach, or individuals who are powerless on their own, without supporters around them." He looks down at his hands, folded together in his lap. "I never fathomed that I might survive this long or accomplish as much as I have. Now that I have reached this stage, I find that I have a strong desire to keep surviving… but only on my terms."

"I see."

"I have also come to feel… stifled, creatively." He looks back to her now. "The woman who I asked to bring you here - my manager - " He smiles slightly. "... _former_ manager. We disagreed on the direction of my career, and on the kind of music I wanted to bring to the world. I wanted to produce and perform original works, but she and the rest of the company felt I would find more success covering other musicians."

"On _that_ one I agree with you. Listening to you play all that classical crap is boring." She frowns. "But… listen, I can understand wanting to live out your life and all, but did you look into the threat? Was it legitimate?"

"It may have been. I did not ask for the details of the investigation." He exhales. "But I cannot say I care, now. My life at this moment…" He reaches up to adjust his glasses. "I am well past the age at which I was told a curse would take my life, and yet I feel that the progress I have made is minimal. I have material possessions, money, and fame, but…"

Kirie waits for a moment before prompting him. "But?"

"... I am not certain what I have gained from these experiences," he says finally. "Or if I have even yet begun to truly… live."

She snorts. She can't help it. "That's deep."

He doesn't look annoyed, but she doesn't think he looks very happy at this remark, either. "I understand that you see me as nothing more than a troublesome Blade Child, Kirie. But I would like to change your mind."

"Oh?"

"Yes." At this he smiles. A real smile, she thinks - maybe - she's not sure. "Have you eaten dinner already?"

"... why are you asking me that?"

"There is a lovely ramen restaurant just around the corner. I know the owner personally." He stands, stretching his arms above his head. "Would you care to come with me? They have the kind of food I miss most when I am out of the country."

"What, are you going to just - walk there?"

"That was my intention, yes."

"Raza-kun, you do realize you just announced your retirement in front of a huge crowd of people, and _some_ of those people are probably going to be standing _right outside_ waiting to mob you the _second_ you leave - right?!" She smacks her palm into her forehead. "For someone so famous, I always wonder how you manage to walk around as if no one will recognize you…!"

"Ah… yes. That is true. Just a moment." He returns to his dressing room, and after a moment re-emerges with his tuxedo jacket slung over one shoulder and his cell phone held to his ear. "Hello, Yamada-san," he greets a caller on the other end; after a pause, his expression seems to actually _brighten_. "That is perfect. Thank you as always."

Kirie stands, unable to help but feel a bit weary as she watches him end the call. "So…"

"My driver is already waiting outside." He tucks the phone into the pocket of his pants. "Would you care to join me? I promise the food is very good."

She rubs the back of her neck. "Look… Raza-kun, I don't know about this…"

"I understand completely if you feel reluctant." He lifts his tuxedo jacket as if he's about to slide it on over his shoulders, only to give it a critical look and - suddenly, carelessly - toss it to the floor. "This evening is the beginning of… a change, for me. I no longer wish to live my life guided by the direction of others. It will take some time, surely, to fully change my behavior, but I plan on doing so."

"I get that, but why invite me along for the ride?"

He locks eyes with her. "Can you say that you are truly living as you wish?"

She opens her mouth to reply with a sarcastic remark, realizes she has nothing to say, and shuts it.

"... I do not mean to interfere," he continues, a bit more softly, "but the frustrations you have expressed at our last few meetings - "

"Okay, okay, fine, whatever. Ramen. I'll go."

He isn't done talking about this, and she knows it, and he has a valid point and she knows that too, but she's not going to get into that now. If going to some noodle bar in the middle of Tokyo on a Friday night with the world's most popular pianist will get someone to stop prying into her feelings, then whatever. She'll do it.

Eyes smiles (maybe) and nods. "We can leave from the back entrance. My driver is waiting there in the car."

* * *

The black towncar is, true to his word, right at the door, but that doesn't keep them from getting mobbed by fans. Eyes doesn't smile or acknowledge a single soul; Kirie, meanwhile, has to remind herself not to gawk at _how many damn people_ there are screaming his name or holding up ridiculous signs.

Even after they're within the safety of the backseat and behind tinted windows, the sheer number of people make it hard for the driver to navigate them out of the crowd. Eyes watches their slow progress with a raised eyebrow, apparently unimpressed by the many women proclaiming their undying love for him. "Perhaps I should have announced my hiatus in a statement," he murmurs.

Kirie thinks for a moment before opening her purse and - with a grin - pulling out the small bottle of vodka she'd stashed away for earlier. "This is the perfect thing to help with regret."

He looks at the bottle, at her, and at the bottle again. "Why do you have…?"

"I told you already. I _hate_ piano music."

"... right," he says, with a sigh, and looks away. "I understand."


	3. the struggle

Working as a forensic scientist isn't a very glamorous job. When the position had been offered to Kirie - somehow through Narumi Kiyotaka's doing, she suspects - she'd taken it immediately. Stable pay and regular hours were the only things she'd wanted then, and of course she already had the right degree and qualifications.

Fast-forward three years, though, and she's gone exactly nowhere in the department. Probably thanks, in part, to her big mouth.

"Asshole," she mutters to the scrap of fabric under her microscope, trying to steady it with one hand and find her tweezers with the other. It isn't like she _minds_ doing the DNA extraction and comparison work. Or the "what the hell kind of plant did _this_ come from" work. But all of it? Yeah, she didn't sign up to do _all of it_.

Just once, she thinks, just _once_ she wants to get out of this damn dungeon of a basement office and go out in the field to do some _real_ investigating -

"KIRIE-CHAN~"

"GAH!" Her tweezers go flying, the fabric exits the microscope, and she nearly damn well smashes her eye into the lens. She doesn't even have to look to know who's hollering her name like that at _nine in the fucking morning on a Monday_ , because no one _else_ would be that cheerful right now.

But she looks anyway, just in case he's in a bunny suit or something. Because that would give her a better excuse to hit him.

"What." It isn't even a question, the way she says it, even as she accepts a cup of coffee - black, because he knows by now - from him. "I'm busy."

Narumi Kiyotaka makes a series of _tsk_ ing noises at her, his glossy brown hair shining under the harsh basement lighting as he shakes his head. "You should have told me, Kirie-chan."

"... told you what?"

"That you were dating a celebrity."

Kirie is used to Kiyotaka acting like an absolute moron, and thus, saying absolutely moronic things; the man has probably the highest IQ in Japan and yet dresses in animal costumes and speaks in riddles for fun. But at this remark she's _actually_ dumbfounded. Not just regular "how can this grown adult be such an idiot" dumbfounded.

He sees the obviously confused look on her face and, with a sly smile, retrieves a rolled item from the back pocket of his pants. "Oho, so maybe it's news to you, too."

"I have no idea," she begins, putting the coffee down and spinning around in her chair to take the item he's passing over, "what you are talking about."

"That's why I brought this."

"What is…" Her words trail off as she unrolls what turns out to be a weekly gossip publication from one of the bigger names she recognizes - _Monday_ , because they always publish on Monday, fitting - and right there on the cover is a photo of her and Eyes Rutherford getting into the back of his car at the back of the concert hall on Friday night.

She groans.

Kiyotaka sounds _excited_. "Look inside!"

"... there's more, isn't there."

"Lots!"

"I won't bother. I know where I was. Eating ramen." She groans again and tosses the tabloids to the side, ignoring the various stacks of papers and research folders it knocks askew. "Did they identify me?"

"You really don't want to read it?" He's pouting. "They jumped to some _very_ interesting conclusions, especially about your age."

"Flattering, but no." She rubs her forehead. A headache is already coming on. "I should have figured this would happen…" After a moment she reaches for the cup of coffee, takes a tentative sip, and sighs. "Seriously, Kiyotaka - "

"No. They didn't identify you." His tone is stern now. And - with his next few words - hushed, in case someone were to come down the hall toward her office. "Also, I no longer have the resources I once did to research these things, as I'm sure you understand, but as far as any credible threats by Hunters are concerned…"

She glances up at him. "Nothing?"

He shrugs his shoulders ever-so-slightly. "I was not able to find any chatter about resumed activity. But once again - "

"Resources. I know. Maybe you shouldn't have pissed off Ayumu-kun's girlfriend so much." She spins around in her chair again, giving the tabloid on her desk a disgusted look as she sips at the steaming coffee. She'd called Kiyotaka on Saturday morning, remembering what Eyes had said about the threat on his life - not that she was all that concerned or anything - but she'd never once thought to mention to the detective _how_ that topic came up.

Still, though, she thinks she can trust Kiyotaka to not behave like a complete fool about this entire thing. They both know what's at stake here - what's really important - and it's not a stupid rumor about her dating a _Blade Child_ , of all things.

Although she is, she'll admit, just a _little_ curious about how old that tabloid thinks she is.

"Speaking of Ayumu-kun…"

"I'll be going to the hospital over lunch today. Madoka as well." Kiyotaka's voice takes on the kind of compassionate tone it can only possess when this subject comes up. "There hasn't been much happening recently, but… the first surgery will be happening soon."

She looks over her shoulder with raised eyebrows. "It's only May. I thought you said fall - "

"Things… changed." She can see he's trying not to cringe. Trying very hard. "Ayumu's very determined, also… when he wants to be."

"... ah." She turns back, looking at her reflection in the murky drink. "Well, I can't make it this time. But tell him I said hello."

"Of course." Kirie hears faint footsteps in the hall - likely someone coming to check on some DNA report - and behind her, Kiyotaka sighs almost imperceptibly. "Well, then. We'll talk again soon."

"Sure." She tucks the tabloid under a stack of folders before raising a hand in a wave. "Bye."

She wonders, as he leaves, how long she can keep avoiding going to that hospital.

* * *

Kirie has a complicated relationship with smoking. She likes to tell people she's given it up, but at the slightest sign of stress she buys a pack of cigarettes. Sometimes two.

Lollipops just don't cut it anymore.

Today is one of those days. On her lunch break she digs out her half-empty pack from the Tuesday before - the "I can't believe that asshole actually raised my rent again" pack - and finds a secluded spot behind the building, away from the detectives she usually smokes (and sometimes drinks, when she's in the mood) with. She waits until she's halfway through a cigarette and completely calmed down before reaching for her cell phone.

She's almost given up when Eyes answers, sounding out of breath. "Kirie. Is everything - "

"I'm fine. Geez, were you running a marathon or something?"

"... no."

"Ugh. Alright, look." She wrinkles up her nose, trying to sort out the best way to deliver this awful, ridiculous, stupid news. "Apparently some gossip magazine got a photo - "

"Yes, _Monday_. I am aware of it." He pauses. "Are you concerned…?"

"Oh. Um. No. I mean - " She blinks a few times. "... I guess it makes sense that you would know. You probably have some like, email news alert on your name or something."

"A publicist."

"Or - that. Right."

"If the publication is bothering you, I can pursue - "

"No, it's not like that. They didn't know who I was or anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew they were spreading some stupid rumor." She takes a moment to enjoy her cigarette, even though her stress level is declining rapidly. Might as well finish the damn thing. "And I mean, I didn't want being seen with me to get you in some sort of trouble."

He chuckles softly. "You are not the first woman I am rumored to be involved with."

"... thanks, I guess?"

"I mean to say that there is no harm done to my reputation, and no need for you to worry. My only concern would be for your safety, but it seems that you remain unidentified, and so things will stay quiet for you." The line goes silent for a few seconds before he continues. "How did you come across this news?"

"It's a long story. And my break's almost over, so I'll have to tell you some other time." She leans heavily against the brick of the building, scratching an itch through the fabric of her shirt. "Thanks again for the concert and dinner and everything."

"It was my pleasure."

"Yeah. Okay, so… bye." She hangs up, abruptly, realizing how awkwardly the conversation has been ended, but this isn't something she wants to get into the habit of doing - talking to Eyes Rutherford, that is.

Once, twice, maybe even three times a year in cafes and tiny restaurants is enough. They're all caught up now. And she has no desire to let him think he's seen past any kind of facade into some secret wanting for a better life -

 _Can you say that you are truly living as you wish?_

She takes one final drag on her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under the heel of her boot. No, she has no desire to let him think that at _all_.

* * *

When she steps off the train at seven that evening, she can see the crowd in front of her apartment building all the way from the station. Her first thought is that there was some kind of accident, so she walks a little faster than usual to get there. Just in case she can help.

This turns out to be a mistake.

"That's her!"

"Tsuchiya Kirie-san! Is it true you're involved with Eyes Rutherford?"

"When did you start seeing each other?"

"How could you do this?!"

"Give back Eyes-san to us! Don't let him retire!"

It takes five full seconds for the situation to sink in, and a few seconds more for the words she's hearing to start making sense. She thinks she must look like an idiot, standing there with her bag over her shoulder, open-mouthed, looking at _all these damn people_ -

"Fuck," she curses out loud, not caring if anyone hears her. They figured out who she was.

So much for anonymity.

"Tsuchiya - "

"No comment," she declares, and begins to push her way through the crowd toward the front door, which she's never before been so thankful for having keycard protection. "Also _move_."

"Is it true you're dating - "

"No comment for _any of you_ ," she says, louder this time, and elbows a cameraman in the stomach. He stumbles and falls backward, and there's a rumble of concern in the crowd, complete with a few gasps of anguish from female fans. But the distraction is enough to get her to the door, and she slips safely inside with everything but her good mood intact.

She barely has time to put down her bag, open a window, and light a cigarette when there's a loud pounding on her apartment door. She returns to the entranceway and opens the door to see - who else? - but her landlord, a stout, balding man who is currently sweating and red in the face. "Tsuchiya," he begins, "I will not stand for this - this kind of distraction in front of my property!"

"I'm not happy about it either." She cocks an eyebrow at him. "So call the cops. What do you expect me to do? They'll go away soon enough."

"This is _your_ doing!"

"I didn't - "

"And I _did_ contact the police," he continues, with a stamp of one foot, "but they told me those people are on public property, because my property only begins after the sidewalk and the street, and so there is nothing that can be done! They can stay here as long as they want!"

She sighs. "So what do you want me to do about it? Chase them away with a broom?"

"Just - go somewhere else for now!"

"Somewhere else? Seriously?" She wags her cigarette at him. "How do you expect me to afford a "somewhere else" when you just raised my rent again?"

He grimaces. "I knew you were a troublemaker. I should have never agreed to rent to you."

"Well, too bad. You did."

"Go away or I'll call the police on you, Tsuchiya!" he declares, and turns to go storming off down the hallway.

She smirks. "I _am_ the police, Sano-san!" she calls after him, but if he hears he doesn't give any indication. His balding head disappears around a corner, and she shuts her door hard - and locks it - before retreating back into her living room with a loud sigh.

A quick glance out the window confirms that yes, the crowd is still there, although they don't seem to know where _she_ is. And they're noisy, too, which makes her feel a little guilty - not for her landlord, _god_ no, but for people like her neighbor two doors down, a single mother with twin boys not even a year old, and…

She thinks it over for a few minutes, finishes her cigarette, and then - reluctantly - calls Eyes Rutherford. Twice in one day, must be a record.

It only takes her a few minutes to summarize the situation to him before she gets to the important question: "So, then, what do _you_ do when you're being stalked by the media?"

"Ah." He sounds thoughtful. "I have normally been escorted by bodyguards or my manager, and so…"

"Not helpful."

"Hm." On the other end of the line, he's silent - thinking - until she hears what might be the scraping of a chair against a floor. "Perhaps the best thing to do is to remove you from the situation, after all."

"... meaning what?"

"My driver can meet you at your apartment. Can you pack a bag, please?"

"Wh - wait, what?"

"Please send me a message with the address. I will have him contact you with an approximate pickup time."

"Raza-kun, hold on, what are you - "

The line goes dead.

Kirie stares at the phone in her hand for a full minute before cursing at Eyes Rutherford in every language she knows. And then she starts packing a bag, because the bastard didn't give her any choice in the matter.

* * *

Eyes' driver, a tanned, middle-aged gentleman who insists Kirie doesn't have to call him "Yamada-san" (his first name, he shares, is Michael; he, like Eyes, is fluent in both English and Japanese) turns out to be easy to get along with. He calms her nerves from the moment she slides into the back of the car, keeping the screen down to make light conversation about how long he's been driving for Eyes (five years), his family (a wife, who works as a physician, and a three-year-old daughter), and the weather (very warm for mid-May).

The drive is long and traffic is uncooperative, and it's a while before Kirie even thinks to ask: "By the way, where are we going?"

"Ah, Rutherford-san didn't tell you?" The driver looks over his shoulder with a sunny smile. "We're almost there now. He asked me to take you to his loft. It's one of the safest places you can be, right now."

"His… what?"

"I'm sure you'll like it," he says, and turns around to focus his attention on driving. "It's very nice."

True to his word, after only a few more blocks the car pulls up to an iron gate in front of a tall building; a keycard is waved and the gates swing open, allowing entrance to a below-ground garage. The driver doesn't park, only comes to a stop in front of an elevator door, and turns again in his seat to address her. "I'll leave you here, if that's alright?"

"Oh - yeah, sure." She unlatches her seatbelt, grabbing for her purse and the overnight bag she'd haphazardly packed. "How do I… get in?"

"Here you are." He passes her a keycard on a silver ring, identical to the one he'd waved at the gates. "You'll need to use this in the elevator. Rutherford-san's loft is on the fiftieth floor, at the very top."

"Ah. Thanks."

"I'm sure he can explain more to you, or the attendants at the desk can - it's a very big building, with a lot of people living here, and a lot of visitors - " He smiles. " - but if you exit the building and come back in again, you'll need that card. And you'll also need it to gain access to any of the elevators, or to unlock the door to Rutherford-san's loft. If you lose it, or you're visiting later, you'll need to contact him so an attendant can let you in."

"... that sounds complicated."

"It's a very secure system." He nods. "Will you need any help with your bags, Tsuchiya-san?"

"No, I'm fine. I - er - thanks for the ride, and…" She opens the door, hesitating. "I feel like I should give you a tip, but…"

He laughs loudly. "No, no, please, I would refuse. I am happy to help. And any time you need me, please feel welcome to call. Any friend of Rutherford-san's is a friend of mine."

"... thanks. Really." She returns the smile. "Even if Raza-kun's just paying you to say that."

He laughs again. "Have a good evening, Tsuchiya-san. Please take care."

"You too," she responds, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. She watches him drive away before she presses the button to call the elevator, wondering just what in the hell she's gotten herself into.

The doors slide open with a soft _bing_ and she steps inside, dragging her bags behind her. "Fiftieth floor," she mutters, "going up."

* * *

"Holy shit."

Eyes, luckily, seems to be used to Kirie's unique way of starting conversations by now. He must have also expected her to be stunned, upon seeing his loft for the first time, judging by how gracefully he takes her bags from her hands. "I trust your ride was pleasant?" he asks.

"When the hell did you buy this place?" she asks, not bothering to answer his question. "The last time I asked, you were still…"

"Renting," he finishes for her. "Yes. A few months ago I began to think about a hiatus, and with that, finding a more permanent home. This particular loft had just gone on the market, and was already mostly furnished by its previous owner, which reduced the amount of work necessary to move in." He gestures to the left side of the large, open room they are standing in - a living area - which has floor to ceiling glass panes wrapping around one corner, and what looks to be a patio outside. "Except, of course, for the modifications necessary to bring in a piano."

"... of course," she echoes him, glancing at the polished white grand piano sitting in the middle of the living space, a white shag rug beneath it. "Of _course_ you took down a wall to bring a piano in. On the fiftieth floor. With a crane, probably."

He smiles as if he's delighted. "Indeed."

"Well, I shouldn't say anything. You're rich, you can do anything you want." She looks around again, still wide-eyed. "This place is seriously… amazing. And expensive."

"Hmm."

"But why am I _here_?"

"Ah. Yes." He nods. "Yamada-san may have mentioned it, but the security here is very good. No one is able to enter or gain access to the building without permission from a resident, or one of the cards that you have been given."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Okay, and…?"

"Follow me, please." He turns, and, with one of her bags in each hand, leads her across the large, open concept room, through a kitchen and dining area, to a back wall with two doors. When he opens the left door and turns on a light, she's treated to the sight of a relatively bare room - an American style bed with a mattress and boxspring covered by a white down comforter, a white armoire, a matching dresser, and a television on top. "I have never had a use for this room," he says, stepping inside to place her bags gently on the bed, "although I considered it useful for future visits, perhaps from Rio."

"Oh… I get it."

"You are welcome to stay here until the current situation ends, and you feel comfortable returning to your own apartment." He gestures to the room as she joins him inside. "I realize there is not much here, but if you find you need anything, I will be happy to provide it. Also, there is an attached bathroom - " He points to a closed door near the back corner. " - so you will have privacy."

She sighs, folding her arms across her chest. "This is nice of you and all, but this isn't going to help with the rumor that we're dating."

"Nothing would, at the moment," he responds.

"... yeah. You're probably right." She wrinkles up her nose. "I still don't know how they found out who I was. Maybe one of my idiot coworkers snitched…"

"Regardless, if this will make your situation more bearable, I am happy to be able to help." He turns to leave the room. "I was preparing to make dinner when you called. If you haven't eaten yet, I would be happy to cook for you."

"That's…" She watches him go, and after a moment she follows, reminding herself to swallow her damn pride every once in a while. "That would be nice. Thanks."

"Of course."

"Hey, really though…" There's a large, marble-topped island in the middle of the (enormous, she thinks, at least compared to her own) kitchen, and she pulls out a barstool to sit down there. "I do… appreciate this. Really."

He is opening the door to a massive, stainless steel refrigerator, but she can still hear his response. "I understand."

"I shouldn't have to be here invading your personal space like this. My asshole landlord just raised my rent again, by a lot, and it's not like my salary could let me pay for a hotel anyway. But even with that, my neighbors…" She traces patterns and lines in the marble with one finger. "If that crowd had stayed there all night…"

"There is no need to worry, Kirie." He turns to nod at her, once, before placing an armful of food on a counter between the sink and oven. "I am not inconvenienced. It is very rare for me to have company."

"We'll see if you feel the same way after a few days of this."

She can't see his face, but she thinks he's smiling. He begins to open packages and bring out cooking supplies, and she waits a few minutes, watching him, before speaking again. "I thought you'd be annoyed, getting done with touring and having your alone time interrupted."

He glances over his shoulder. "Hm?"

"You weren't alone when you were on tour, I mean - you said there were bodyguards, and your manager, and I'm sure you had to deal with fans…"

"Ah." He looks away quickly. "That did not necessarily prevent me from experiencing feelings of solitude."

She watches him start to boil a pot of water, presumably for the package of some kind of pasta sitting on the counter, and she thinks about changing the topic to something else - asking what he's making, if he actually has experience cooking this kind of thing - but something in the air seems strange, now. And she isn't sure she can leave the subject alone.

"Hey, Raza-kun…"

"Yes?"

"You seem… different, now. But in some ways, you're the same." She twines her fingers together on top of the marble counter. "For all those things you said about doing what you want, and not being threatened by a Hunter… right now, it still seems like there's something weighing on you."

"It may always be that way," he responds, "regardless of my intentions."

"Because of being a Blade Child?" she asks.

"If that is the case," he says, looking over his shoulder again, "will you always be a Watcher?"

She frowns. "I don't consider myself a Watcher anymore. I haven't since it all ended."

"If that kind of decision was available to myself, I would gladly take it." He shakes his head slightly. "But I am not so lucky. Despite my best intentions, I will always feel some burden of my existence. There will always be a reminder, and I only wish to avoid…" He turns away to the counter with a frown. "... to avoid potentially harming others."

"The curse," she murmurs.

"I would prefer to believe that it has no hold on us, just as the others have come to do so." She sees tension in his shoulders, wonders if he is gripping the countertop with his hands where she can't see it. "But for the sake of those around me, I cannot risk their lives in exchange for happiness on my part."

"So everything you said about not living your life under the direction of other people…"

"That was not untrue." She hears him exhale. "But even as I wish to seek happiness, and make plans to follow my own path, I must do so… alone."

The kitchen falls silent again, save the soft sound of water bubbling on the range. After a few moments Eyes turns to face her, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one finger, clearing his throat softly. "I apologize. I should not have said as much as I did."

"You don't have to be sorry." She smiles a little. "And for the record, you're not alone right now. Even though I'm probably the worst company ever."

"At least this time I am not in the hospital."

"You have a point there." She grins now. "And let's keep it that way. If I start to bother you, feel free to kick me out. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes." He nods, returning to the stove. "But I doubt that there will be any issues."

"Let's hope not," she says, "because I _really_ don't want to go back to my stupid apartment right now."

"Nor do I. It is much safer here."

"And there's better food. I hope."

At this he actually smiles, and Kirie feels a little better about things than she did just a few minutes before. "Yes," he says, "I can assure you - _much_ better food."

"... wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmm."

"Are - did you just take a shot at my cooking? You've never even had anything I've made."

"Sometimes that is not necessary to know the outcome."

"Asshole," she mutters, and he smiles again, and although she wants to be mad it is good, sort of, to see him smiling. So she'll give him a free pass. _This_ time.


	4. the river in you

Living with Eyes Rutherford is frustrating as hell.

Having spent the better part of the week living in a huge and probably enormously expensive loft, Kirie can't deny that she's had a remarkable amount of privacy. She's also had a dinner cooked for her every night (though where Eyes Rutherford found time to learn to cook, she'll never guess), and her sleep has gone uninterrupted by the piano or any kind of noise from the young man residing in the bedroom next door.

But.

For all this peace and quiet, she's still been irritated. And _extremely so_. Even with Eyes keeping entirely to himself, only speaking when spoken to and remaining practically glued to his piano, she's been irritated by his very presence.

There's some feeling of freedom she's lost. She's lost the freedom to walk around wearing whatever she wants, to watch dramas on television with the volume turned up loud, to sprawl out on her couch drinking beer and eating microwaved dinners.

And as grateful as she knows she should be for the safety, for the homecooked meals and the comfortable bed (because _fuck_ , her futon really ought to be thrown out by now), she can't feel like herself like this. She can't pretend to be quiet and polite like he is. She just _can't_.

Just him being there is a bother. She knows he wouldn't say anything, if she came in and ate curry rice or drank a beer while watching a ridiculous drama on his TV, but he _would_ judge her. And that, that's just… too much.

She can't do it.

So she comes back to his loft on Friday afternoon, her work week over, fully intending to tell him that she's finished with the whole thing and going back to her own apartment. He's been a lovely host but she'd rather live alone, _be_ alone, rather than pretend she's this polite, well-behaved shell of a woman.

But he isn't there when she arrives, and there's a note on the kitchen island that says he'll be out late.

It's not how she wanted to do it, she thinks, but maybe it will be easier - just leaving the key behind and going, no explanation needed. She goes into the guest room and begins to pack her things and hopes that they never end up being roommates again.

* * *

"I was wondering where you'd gone, Tsuchiya-san."

Kirie's first instinct is to beat the intruder within her apartment to death with the first thing within her reach, which just so happens to be a ceramic cookie jar shaped like a monkey. Said intruder doesn't exactly look concerned, but he doesn't look happy about this reaction, either. "Errrm, I suppose I should explain why I'm in here - "

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN MY APARTMENT?!"

"Sorry. Right." The man rises from her couch, running a hand through the long strands of black hair that have been hanging in his face. He's tall and lanky, and Kirie sees the shine of a silver hoop in one ear. "My name is Coen. And you left your window open."

"I live on the third floor."

"And I'm fully capable of climbing." He smiles a bit sheepishly. "But more importantly, I had dropped by to check on your safety, since I was in the area and all, and with the news about you…"

Kirie doesn't put the cookie jar down. She still thinks she could give him a concussion with it, at least, if she caught him by surprise. "You're still not explaining anything."

"Right - right. I'm a Watcher as well. Or - was."

She lowers the jar, but only a little. "Why should I believe that?"

"Narumi Kiyotaka contacted me about the threat on Eyes Rutherford's life. When I saw the news - " He gestures toward a tabloid on one arm of the couch, her face blurry and distant on the cover. She hasn't seen this one yet, and doesn't want to. " - I wondered if there was something going on, because he'd mentioned your name before. The rest, well…"

She puts the jar down on the kitchen counter. But only for the moment. "So you snuck in here because you thought… what? That I needed protecting?"

"Er, well. I suppose it was something along those lines. Or maybe collaboration, if Eyes Rutherford _was_ in danger."

"What did you say your name was again?"

He blinks once, twice, three times. "Er. It's Coen Smit. It's Dutch, you see; I'm originally from - "

"I'll tell you two things, Coen Smit, and then you can get the hell out of my apartment." She opens a kitchen drawer and wraps her hand around the handle of the biggest knife she owns - not that she's going to show him that, not yet, but just in case. "One: I do not need protecting."

He cringes. "I'm - sorry, I - "

"Two: Eyes Rutherford is more concerned about _my_ safety than his own right now, so you can throw whatever ideas you have about watching or protecting that idiot right out the same window you crawled through." She pauses. "Now get the hell out of here before I start screaming about an intruder and find the need to defend myself."

That's all the motivation the Watcher seems to need; he doesn't make eye contact as he goes for the door, nearly jogging out into the entranceway and closing the door hard behind him. Kirie waits for nearly a moment before unclenching the knife and closing the drawer, her overnight bag and purse dropping heavily from her shoulder to the kitchen floor. " _Fuck_ ," she hisses, "I thought we were past all this…"

Her cell phone begins to ring. She looks down at her purse, vibrating slightly on the floor, and shakes her head. "Not now," she says, out loud. That can wait until she smokes.

* * *

She's on her third cigarette by the time she finally feels stable enough to retrieve her cell phone and look at the call log. She calls Eyes back, even though she's in no mood to talk to him (part of this is all his fault, after all), and he answers on the first ring.

"I just left the hospital," he greets her, abruptly. "Narumi Ayumu is…" There's a pause. Kirie feels her chest tighten with fear, but then Eyes sighs and finishes his sentence. "... struggling. His surgery has been scheduled for next week."

"Oh."

"I thought you might want to be aware." She hears the noise of traffic in the background and guesses he's standing outside, waiting for his car to pick him up. "I am sure he would appreciate a visit, should you find the time to come. Yamada-san will be preoccupied this evening, but he could take you tomorrow, if you wish."

"I… don't think that'll be happening." She frowns at the street below her window, flicking ash off her burning cigarette. "I came back to my apartment after work. I thought it'd be safe by now."

"... ah." His voice stays the same - quiet and devoid of emotion. "I hope I have not done anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No. I just don't really like living with somebody else, I guess."

His tone still doesn't change. "I understand."

She grits her teeth, suddenly irritated. _Does nothing make him mad? Or happy? Or feel_ anything _?_

"You are welcome to return at any time," he continues. "And please, if there is anything I can do for you, you only need to ask."

"Sure. And… thanks for telling me about Ayumu-kun." She straightens her back, closing - and locking, this time - her window. "Goodbye, Raza-kun."

"Goodbye, Kirie."

They hang up. And she hopes that this time it's the end of it. No more Eyes, no more Watchers, no more talk of curses, no more getting kicked out of her apartment. Just her and her job and her stupid landlord leering at teenagers.

* * *

She wakes up after falling asleep on her couch to the sound of her cell phone ringing. And ringing. And _ringing_.

She's only half-awake when she answers it, but when she does, Eyes is frantic on the other end.

" _Kirie_."

"Wha…" She rubs her eyes as she sits up. "The hell? Raza-kun, wh -"

"The Hunter who threatened me. He has your location." She's never heard him sound this… concerned. Maybe it's fear. She can't quite place his tone. "He made a threat through my publicist - not on my life, but on yours."

So much for the end of it. "... I knew that guy wasn't a Watcher," she mutters.

"What - who are you - "

"It's… something I haven't told you about yet. Shit." She yawns, sweeping her hair out of her face. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do about this? Not going to lie to you, if it's the guy I think it is, he already knows where I live and how to get into my apartment. Even if I _do_ lock all my windows."

"You must come back here. Please."

She groans. "You have to be kidding me. I _just_ left."

"I understand that you would prefer to be alone, but if something were to happen to you because of me…"

"Nothing's going to - "

"Kirie." She recognizes this tone. It's desperation. And it's definitely fear. " _Please_."

"... okay," she hears herself agreeing. "Fine. Send over your driver." She lifts herself off the couch, stretching her free arm over her head, and looks at the overnight bag still packed on the floor. "But this time you're doing my laundry along with cooking my meals. _And_ paying my rent."

"Anything," he agrees, "to keep you safe." And then he hangs up.

Kirie looks at the phone in her hand for a moment and sighs. She'll have to give it another shot - what choice does she have?

But this time, for her own sake, she'll have to stop pretending and be herself - otherwise, she thinks, with a snort, she might end up murdering him for a little excitement.


	5. the bottle

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes."

"Ugh."

Saturday morning brings with it a lockdown on the two occupants of Eyes Rutherford's loft, and Kirie is not happy about it. She understands her companion's reasoning, of course - a Hunter _did_ make a threat on her life, and said Hunter very well could have been the idiot who had already gained access to her apartment, maybe gone through her things while she was away…

… but that doesn't mean she has to be happy, being stuck inside with a moody pianist all weekend.

She's lying sprawled out on the oversized white couch that takes up an entire side of his living room, alternating between using her laptop and watching him scratch notes onto lined paper, and she is bored out of her mind. She's been pretend shopping for his loft for the last hour or so, since the decorating is pretty sparse (and it's nice to pretend she's rich like him), but even that is starting to lose its appeal.

"What do _you_ do on days like this?" she asks, peeking over the top of her screen at him. "You said you've been locked away by bodyguards before, right?"

"Ah." He doesn't look up from his pen and paper. "Even so, I would be doing the same as I am now."

"Writing music?"

"Or practicing, yes."

"You didn't sound like you needed practice at that concert."

He glances at her. "No matter how talented one is at their craft, it is foolish to fall out of practice." He returns his attention to the paper. "Furthermore, I was under the impression that you cared little for the music I played."

"Not that recycled crap." She rolls her eyes. "Maybe something original would be better. But I had to put up with enough Bach and Chopin and _whatever_ in my music classes in school. Just listening to someone else play the same thing over and over again is annoying."

"Perhaps you have just not come to appreciate the sound of the piano."

"I doubt that."

"Then I will make it my mission to convince you otherwise."

"Ha." She closes her laptop and tosses it to the side, sitting up and crossing her legs. "Good luck with _that_."

He looks up again, this time with one pale eyebrow arched over the top of his dark glasses. "Have I done something to make you angry with me, Kirie?"

The question catches her fully off guard, and she blinks, opens her mouth, stammers, and rubs the back of her neck before even formulating a - rather sheepish - response. "I… guess I'm just taking the… situation… hard. Sorry. It's not really about you… I guess."

"Would you be more comfortable if I was not here?"

"I - ugh. That's not it." She sighs loudly. "Sorry. I feel like an asshole now. You're going out of your way to keep me safe and I've been like this all week."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "It was not my intention to make you feel badly about your behavior. However…"

"You can say it."

He looks at his sheet music, at the piano, then at her again. "... there is no need. I understand that these last several days have been very stressful. And it must be difficult to leave the comforts of your own home to stay with someone who you once viewed as nothing more than a nuisance."

She folds and unfolds the hem of her skirt between her finger and thumb, frowning, feeling more than a little ashamed. It's just like him to read the situation so easily, to know what's going on and causing her frustration. And it really hasn't been fair, the way she's been lashing out at him (even if only in her head). He's been acting like a perfect gentleman and she's been…

"Kirie."

She looks up. "Hm?"

He shakes his head. "I am not upset with you. I am simply more used to a… lack of freedom, I suppose, than you are."

At that she cringes. "I guess I never realized how good I had it, even being a Watcher… eh?"

""Good" is not the word that I would use, but we did live very different lives." He pushes back the piano bench and stands. "And perhaps still do."

"I really thought all this crap…" She gestures with one hand. "... the Hunters, your life being affected by threats, having to worry about being one of the Blade Children… I thought it was somehow all over with. You know? Ayumu-kun fought for that, and he wanted all of you to believe, so…" She smiles a little. "Maybe I got too caught up in it."

"No." He shakes his head, and she watches as he pushes in the wooden bench before coming to sit beside her, the couch cushions sinking gently with his added weight. "Narumi Ayumu wanted all of us to have such hope. That included you. Of that, I am certain."

She looks up at him, wondering briefly when he got so tall. Was it normal for people his age to have growth spurts? Maybe she was just getting shorter. "Did you tell him about the threat?"

"No."

"I wouldn't have, either. And hopefully Kiyotaka doesn't." She worries the hem of her skirt again. "But the thing is… a threat on your life, and now mine, at this point… it all seems so stupid. By now, you've all proven yourselves… what's the point? Who are you even a danger to, now?"

She can feel his gaze on her. "You truly no longer consider yourself a Watcher…?"

"What is there to watch? Who's there to report to?" She snorts. "I decided when Narumi Ayumu decided. As dumb as it felt, that's… the decision I made. To support him." She sighs. "And so that means supporting all of you."

"That is the path you have been following?"

"There hasn't been much I can do, but…" She looks up, meeting his eyes with her own. "... I know I've been kind of a jerk the last couple days - well, longer - but… if you did need me to help with something, or… whatever, I'd do it. That's why I kept meeting with you, after all. It - it's not like I'm Ayumu-kun's servant, or anything - " She sees his lips twitch and she makes a face, abruptly turning away. " - argh, forget it - "

"No, no… I apologize." She hears the trace of a smile in his voice. "I appreciate your explanation."

"It's just - I don't get it, why this is happening _now_." She crosses her arms. "Why you had someone threaten you for coming back to your home, and then me for… just being around you, I guess. There's nothing to gain."

"My very existence is still a speck in the eye of a few, so to speak," he murmurs. "But I agree that the timing is suspect. Even so…" He pauses before speaking again. "If I can resolve this situation properly…"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ensuring your safety."

"What about _your_ safety?"

"I believe I already told you that I would not allow a threat to dictate the course of my life." He smiles ever-so-slightly, shaking his head. "But neither will I allow someone like yourself to be put in danger because of my own foolish actions. So if I must remain sheltered in order to keep you safe, as well…"

She wrinkles her nose. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Under most circumstances, I would be inclined to believe that. However, the threat we are facing now… and what you have told me about this person entering your apartment… I would prefer to be more cautious than usual." He stands abruptly, crossing the living room into the open kitchen, and Kirie watches as he bends to open a small door with a glass front to the left side of the refrigerator. "But for the time being, I do not believe that discussing this topic will allow us to make any progress on it."

She eyes him warily. "So what do you suggest we do instead…?"

He shuts the door and stands up with a dark bottle in one hand. "Would you like a drink?"

"... you're kidding me, right?"

"You are uncomfortable with the current situation. Perhaps this will help you relax."

She stands up, still not sure if he's serious. "It's not even noon yet."

"And neither of us will be driving anywhere."

"... you're not wrong."

"I was given this bottle of wine as a gift after a show in Greece," he says, gesturing to the plum-colored bottle in one hand. "I was told it was very expensive - a vintage merlot. But - " He places it down on the kitchen counter before opening a cabinet, presumably looking for glasses. " - during my time spent in Europe, I came to find that I could not taste any discernable difference between expensive wine and inexpensive wine. So I cannot vouch for its quality."

"You're serious about this?" She crosses the room to meet him, eyebrows arched. "I mean, I know you're legal age by now and all, but I never took you as a drinker. Or a potential one."

He chuckles ever-so-softly. "Some days merit a drink. Or several."

She laughs, caught off guard. "You got that right."

"Have you ever had wine?" he asks, glancing at her as she settles on a barstool by the kitchen island - a location that's already becoming familiar to her, even though he has a perfectly good (and enormous, of course) dining table set to the left side of the kitchen. "I know it is not all too common in Japan."

"Once, I think. When…" She stops and changes her mind on her answer. "Well, a long time ago."

"Then I have all the more reason to share with this with you." He turns to face the kitchen island with the wine in one hand and two glasses in another. "If you would care to join me, that is."

She looks at the bottle, then at him. "Why the hell not," she declares. "It's not like I have anything better to do right now, you know?"

"My thoughts exactly," he says, with a slight smile.

* * *

Kirie doesn't mean to open up to Eyes over that bottle of wine. But wine is more potent than she realizes, and they end up splitting the entire thing because _why the hell not_ , and that much alcohol with only a light breakfast in their stomachs seems to increase the effects.

So she does open up. About a lot. About how she came to be a Watcher, about how she came to know Narumi Kiyotaka before that, about how even before that she was a university student whose entire life changed and outlook shifted when she found her long-term boyfriend cheating on her, just days after she'd buried her mother.

Eyes, to his credit, isn't completely silent during all of this. He speaks of his own past - of his mother leading him to the piano at an early age, forcing his fingers and eyes to become nimble and aware of the notes and keys, of her own obsession with music becoming a craft he felt he had no choice but to carry on. He tells stories of his own of his time with the other Blade Children, interacting with Kiyotaka, and of occasions where he'd gone to see his mother's grave - or Kanone Hilbert's - and sat wondering if he would one day join them in the same darkness.

"That's depressing," she says in response to that, which happens to be the last thought he shares before finishing his glass. "I know you and Kanone Hilbert were close, in a strange sort of way, but that…"

He turns the stem of the glass around in his hand, watching a bead of wine trail slowly around the inside. "He was my brother."

"Well, yeah."

"At one time, I considered him the only person I could trust. But he broke that trust, and so…" He places his glass on the marbled top of the kitchen island with a sigh, shifting in place on the barstool across from her. "Trust… is no longer something that comes easily to me. Much in the same way it seems to be difficult for you."

She taps her fingernails along the base of her own glass. "Sounds like we've both had our hearts ripped out by someone along the way. No wonder we're such messes."

It's a dark joke, but there's still the shadow of a smile on Eyes' face in response. "You and I are more alike than I realized, Kirie."

"Maybe so."

"I had not thought so clearly about the Watchers also being little more than pawns in the game - about Mizushiro Yaiba and Narumi Kiyotaka's influence extending so far - but considering it now… the role you played, and how easily it seems you fell into Kiyotaka's hands..."

"Why do we always end up talking about this kind of shit when we're together?" She cups her chin in one hand, rolling her eyes. "We're always going around in circles about it. Can we just agree to never talk about the Blade Children and Watchers and Hunters and all that ever again?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "That seems… difficult."

"I mean it. What's the point?"

"There was a threat - "

" - made on my life, I get it, whatever. But what's the point in sitting here complaining about it?" She shrugs. "The others are out there living their lives just fine, and here we are holed up in your place acting like everything scares us. Don't get me wrong, I like any excuse to drink at noon, but when it's the only thing I can find to do…"

He leans back to examine her face, as if he's considering her words carefully; after a moment he speaks again, sounding cautious. "It is possible that I… bring up the topic too often."

"Forget "possible" and try "damn certain.""

"I will make an attempt to change that." He bows his head. "And I apologize if doing so has made you uncomfortable."

"It's not _that_." She shakes her head. "But everything we talked about just proves it… doesn't it? We know - _knew_ , I guess - almost nothing about each other beyond one of us being a Blade Child and the other being a Watcher and, I don't know, you're a famous pianist in your spare time and don't say much to anyone unless you're forced." She snorts. "If you're going to force me to stay here for any period of time, our conversations with each other should probably be friendly. And they should also _exist_ , for that matter."

He looks sheepish. "I understand."

"So can we please try to move past all this Blade Children crap and start talking to each other like human beings?" She gestures at him. "Even if this did begin in a _really_ weird way, I don't think it's too late to change it." She straightens up in her seat, grinning slightly. "And besides, I know all your secrets now, so if you don't agree I'll just take them to the tabloids."

"I am happy to agree," he replies. "But…" He pauses for a moment, his attention fixed elsewhere, before meeting her gaze with his own. "... only on one condition."

"Hmm?" She blinks. "What's that?"

"I would like you to address me by my name."

"Ohhhh." She laughs. "I was wondering when that would come up. Alright - Eyes-kun, then?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Eyes."

"... ergh." She glances away. "You might have to give me a little time to get used to that."

"That is fine." He stands, reaching to retrieve both of their empty glasses - and the finished bottle - and take them to the kitchen sink. "We will both be making changes. But I believe they will all be for the best."

"You're probably right." She crosses her legs with a grin. "Just as long as you don't make me live with you permanently, anyway."

"That," he says, with a smile of his own, "I can assure you, is not part of the plan."


	6. the blood

By early Tuesday morning, Kirie can't keep sitting around in Eyes' loft doing nothing - especially because she doesn't have all that much vacation time to use. Eyes, to his credit, doesn't disagree with her returning to work - she does, after all, spend her day in a building with the police - but insists on his driver taking her there instead of allowing her to take a public train.

"Do you really think we're still at risk?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at him as they descend the steps outside his building to the waiting car. "It's been pretty quiet, you know."

"Being complacent is not the appropriate response to a threat," he answers. "I expect an update from the investigators this morning."

She sighs. "Do you really think they're going to find anything?"

He doesn't lie. "No."

"Ugh…"

"Here." He steps around her as they reach the waiting car, coming forward to open the door to the back seat for her. "I will contact you if I hear anything of importance."

"Such a gentleman," she teases him, placing her shoulder bag inside the car before turning to say goodbye (and tell him she can open her own damn door next time). For a split second she wonders, almost casually, why there's a red dot on his chest - no, actually, his collar -

She stops thinking and instinct kicks in.

"GET DOWN!"

Eyes doesn't move. Kirie lunges for him just as she hears the faint sound of a rifle firing behind her - it's not too far away, in fact it's entirely too close for her to be comfortable with it - and as they're falling to the ground she feels a flash of lightning along the outside of her upper arm, followed by the sound of bullets uselessly striking the stairs behind them.

"KIRIE!" She has never heard Eyes Rutherford sound so… human. _Panicked_ is probably the right word in this case, truthfully, but she gives herself some leeway there considering she's probably just been shot. Or at least nicked. "What - are you - are you - ?!"

"I'm fine." She rolls off of him, onto her back, and stares up at the sky; everything seems bright and saturated and she reminds herself to breathe, that she has at least a few seconds of adrenaline until the pain arrives, that there will only be blood and pain and all of it is temporary. "You're okay?"

"Yamada-san!" He sits up and calls for the driver, who Kirie can hear is already out of the car (like an idiot) and rushing over to them. "Call an ambulance. Now. _Please_."

"I believe I saw the shooter," the driver blurts out, kneeling down beside them. "Lying atop of the building across the street, I only happened to look when I heard the first shot - "

Kirie glances up at his face. "Black hair?"

"Y - yes - it was tied back. And the gun had a very long barrel."

"Forget the ambulance - " She tries to roll onto her side and cringes. Bad idea. The adrenaline is going fast. The colors of the sky are fading. "Eyes. Get my phone."

She doesn't have to look at him to know he's bewildered. "You have been _shot_ , Kirie, you must be taken to the hospital - "

"I said _get my phone_! Let me call Kiyotaka and then you can do what you want with me. It's not like I'm going to die from this." She manages to sit up; a glance at the arm of her coat confirms it's both torn and already soaked with blood, and a glance is really all she needs to get pissed about it. That asshole has no idea how long it took her to find a peacoat in cream.

Eyes reaches into the back of the car (staying on his knees, she notices, in case the shooter is still around - smart man) and comes out with her bag; she doesn't bother to wait on him and instead digs inside for her phone herself, using the hand on her left arm to find the device, flip it open, and navigate through the contacts list to Narumi Kiyotaka. Beside them, the driver is on his own phone, his tanned face lined with stress. "I can contact an ambulance, but it may be faster to drive to the hospital, considering how close we are…"

"That's fine," she says to him; then, to the man who answers her call on the first ring - she has to give Kiyotaka credit for being an early riser - "The man who threatened Eyes Rutherford is - or just was - on top of the Mizuho Financial Building three blocks west of Waseda Station. His name is Coen… something. Ugh - Smit. He is armed and dangerous."

Eyes seems to have just realized that Kirie took a bullet for him. Literally. She spares only a glance at the horrified expression on his face before refocusing her energy on her phone call. "Got it?" she asks.

"I'll send units immediately," he responds. "But moreover, you sound a little… weak, Kirie-chan. Is everything - "

"No time," she says, and closes her phone with a snap. Beside her, Eyes has stripped off his suit coat and is now beginning to wrap it around her injured arm. "Okay," she says, biting back a groan of pain, " _now_ we can go to the hospital."

The driver cautiously stands, glancing around; a small crowd has gathered and the doors of the building have been thrown open, but there have been no further shots, thankfully. "Would you like some help getting up, Tsuchiya-san?"

"No, I can - "

Eyes bends down, slides an arm under her knees, and lifts her off the ground. "You are _not walking_ ," he says, and seemingly effortlessly deposits her in the backseat of the car before grabbing her bag and sliding in beside her. "Yamada-san, let's hurry. Please."

"Y - yes sir!"

Kirie exhales, cradling her wrapped forearm against her side and forcing down the waves of pain long enough to manage a joke. "You know," she says to her companion, as the driver hurries back to the front of the car and they almost immediately lurch into motion, "being a gentleman is what got you in trouble in the first place."

Eyes leans forward and cradles his head in his hands. "Please stop talking."

She'd laugh, but that would probably hurt, so she settles for closing her eyes and waiting out the rest of the ride to the hospital.

* * *

"You can go, you know."

"No."

"Seriously. I'm not going to die. And there are guards _right_ outside."

"No."

"Don't you think you're being just a little unreasonable?"

Eyes gives Kirie what may be the coldest look he can muster from the chair beside her hospital bed. " _No_."

She sighs. It's nearly noon, and Eyes has been glued to her side almost the entire time that she's been in the hospital - save the time she spent in a trauma bed having her bullet wound cleaned, stitched closed, and bandaged by expert hands. The sniper's bullet had really only nicked her right forearm, but thanks to its speed, the damage and blood loss had been somewhat substantial.

Since then she's been made comfortable with some pain pills and placed in a private room (she can only guess whose doing _that_ was), and altogether she's not unhappy with the way things have turned out. After all, Eyes wasn't killed and that's what matters.

But now he _refuses to leave_. He's been sitting by the side of her bed with his bloodstained suit coat in his lap for damn near an hour and a half, saying very little but making a series of concerned and angry faces. Neither his nor Kirie's phone have buzzed with any updates, but she knows he's contacted at least Kiyotaka.

She wishes he would just go away for a little while. The pain medication is making her drowsy and she really wants to get some damn sleep.

"Hey," she starts, "I'm sure one of those officers outside would give you a ride home if you wanted."

He frowns. "No."

"Seriously, Eyes. _Go home_." She sighs, fidgeting with the buttons on the side of her bed. "There is nothing you can do here. I'm fine."

"I am not leaving."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because this is my fault."

"Oh for god's sake." She rolls her eyes. "It's not your fault that I got nicked in the arm by some stupid Hunter with bad aim."

"That is not what I mean."

She opens her mouth to reply and is interrupted by a knock on the door of her room - followed immediately by Narumi Kiyotaka letting himself right in. "Well, well!" he addresses them, a broad smile on his face, "congratulations, Kirie-chan! Your impressive details - ah, and getting shot, of course - led us right to Coen Smit, who we believe is responsible for the recent threats on Eyes Rutherford's life. Well done!"

She snorts. "Glad I could help."

Eyes leaves his chair for the first time in a while, standing and turning to face the detective with clenched fists. "Do you think this to be some kind of joke?"

Kiyotaka doesn't waver, a smile still plastered across his face. "Oh, no, not at all. I'm quite grateful to Kirie-chan for putting herself in the line of fire so she could save your life."

The pianist takes a step forward; Kirie feels some shock as she notices just how close they are in height now, and - more importantly - how close to Kiyotaka's face Eyes has gotten. This does not feel like a good situation. "Her life was in serious danger," he says, his voice cold, "and perhaps if you had done _your part_ to the extent with which you promised - "

"Eyes." Kirie leans forward in her bed. "Stop it. I'm fine."

"Yes, _Eyes_ , she is fine. And we can all be thankful for that." Kiyotaka shrugs, turning his back on the pale-haired young man. "Well, I only wanted to let you know that we have your Hunter in custody. I suppose I'll go see Ayumu, since I'm already here." He raises a hand in a casual wave as he exits. "Rest up, Kirie-chan~"

She watches him close the door, then sighs loudly, sinking back into her bed. "That asshole doesn't know when to quit, does he…"

Eyes doesn't respond. For nearly a minute he stands in place, fists clenched, his face blank - and then suddenly he moves to the door and leaves as well, closing it firmly behind him without a single word to Kirie.

She blinks, dismayed. But she's not going to complain. "At least now I can get some damn sleep," she mutters, jamming her finger into the button that lowers the head of her bed.

* * *

It's late afternoon and dinner has already been served when Eyes returns, dressed in a fresh set of clothes and carrying her overnight bag. "Hey," she greets him, studying the calm expression on his face, "you okay?"

"Yes." He places the bag on the floor and resumes his seat beside her bed, watching as she uses a bulky remote to turn down the volume on a television mounted to the ceiling. "I apologize for leaving so abruptly. I needed to… calm down."

"Yeah. I can understand that."

He nods at the bag. "I believe you will be discharged shortly, so I returned home and retrieved a change of clothing for you."

"And you too, from the looks of things." She grins a little. "Sorry for bleeding all over your jacket."

He sighs, shaking his head. The room is quiet for a moment before he speaks again, his voice steady. "I have not yet thanked you for saving my life."

"Eh." She shrugs. "You don't need to. It was instinct."

"Even so… I cannot help but wonder what I would have done if you had been killed." He doesn't break eye contact with her. "The intent of this Hunter was more than likely to kill me. He threatened you based on what he assumed from your being seen in public with me, and thought - perhaps correctly - that doing so would draw me out into his view. I do not want to think about what might have occurred if his aim had been less true, or if, perhaps…" His voice trails off. "... a number of things might have happened instead."

"Well, you don't _need_ to think about it. Because it didn't happen." She rubs absently at her bandaged upper arm. "I barely got hurt, that guy's with the police, and you're sitting here alive."

"But to take a bullet for a Blade Child…" His expression is troubled. "Even if the amount of pain you have experienced is as minimal as you claim it is - "

"Look, it's not about that." She waves a hand at him. "Like I said, it was instinct. I saw the sight on your shirt and just - jumped. It's not like I thought about it first, all "hmm, would a Watcher normally do something like this?" or whatever."

"But you might have thought about your actions first, in the past."

At that she pauses, because she wants to tell him he's wrong. But he's not.

"Yeah," she admits, "you're right. A long time ago, my default reaction might have been to just stay out of it. Because that's what I was supposed to do."

He nods slowly. She bites down on her bottom lip, thinking, and then continues: "But you know how I am. Even with the role I was playing, I've never been good at doing the whole… stand by and watch everyone tear themselves to pieces… thing." She manages a slight smile. "Letting you kids shoot each other up in a high school was bad enough, and then it all got worse…"

"I do remember that." He nods again. "You have… compassion."

"I guess." She rubs at her bandaged arm again; it's starting to ache and she hopes she'll get a prescription for something before she's discharged. "So really, none of what just happened should be a surprise to you, should it?"

At this he shakes his head. "I am still surprised."

"Why?"

"The Watcher I once knew might have wanted to save my life. But she ultimately would not have been able to."

She considers that for a minute, and then she drops her hand into her lap, twining her fingers together. "I guess things _have_ changed since then," she admits. "And probably more than I realized. But… the most important thing is that I'm not dead, and _you're_ not dead, so you don't have to worry about that. And that Coen guy is with the police, so he won't be bothering you. And that means you can go back to living your life, and I can go back to my apartment - at least once this shit with the tabloids blows over, too - and we can seriously try to stop talking about Blade Children and Watchers and everything that happened in the past."

He studies her face, and she's about to ask him what's wrong when he finally speaks, nodding slowly as he does so. "I agree."

"Okay." She taps her thumbs together. "So no more thanking me for saving your life or - anything like that, alright?"

He looks like he would prefer to protest, but also knows that agreeing is the safer option. "Yes."

"Good." She tosses the sheets off her legs. "Now go get me discharged so I can get the hell out of here. Hospital food is just as bad as I remember."

He stands, a slight smile creasing his mouth. "On that sentiment, I will fully agree with you."


	7. the nightmare

By the end of the week, everything changes.

Kirie gets word, the morning after being discharged from the hospital, that she will have medical leave until Monday, nearly a week. She argues with her supervisor about whether or not it's necessary - he says it is, she says it's not - until he threatens to fire her if she sets foot in the building and hangs up on her.

"It's not like I'm crippled," she gripes to Eyes over a cup of coffee. "I've gone to work with worse pain."

"Do you want to be fired?" he asks, stirring milk into his own cup.

She grumbles at him and pretends there's something interesting on her empty plate.

* * *

Barely an hour later, Eyes' publicist calls with not-entirely-unexpected news of Kirie's shooting having made not only the tabloids, but also some of the more serious local publications. There aren't any photos this time, but it's apparently enough to add fuel to the fire that is rumors of their relationship, based on how much coverage she's told it gets.

She has to admit that it's a pretty good story - her taking a bullet and literally saving the life of the world's most beloved pianist - but when her landlord calls to complain _again_ about a crowd of people in front of her apartment building, it loses some of its luster.

And the fight that follows ends with her being evicted. Over the phone, no less.

* * *

By Wednesday, Eyes has convinced her not to worry about her apartment. Through some magic she won't bother to question, he's had her personal belongings retrieved, the majority of them placed in a paid storage unit, and her clothing and a few other important items delivered to his loft.

And he's somehow had her apartment cleaned. And gotten her deposit back from her good-for-nothing landlord, to boot.

"I have half a mind to kiss you for all this," she says that night, turning a teddy bear she's had for an embarrassingly long time around in her hands. "You don't know how much trouble you just saved me."

Eyes, to his credit, only blushes a little. "Consider it a repayment on the debt I owe you," he responds.

"You don't owe me anything," she tells him. "Especially if you're going to be putting up with me for even longer now."

"We will have to agree to disagree."

* * *

On Thursday morning, Eyes leaves the loft to meet with the owner of a small Tokyo-based record label. He'd gotten the call through his publicist, and while he'd initially declined - "I have no interest in a contract," Kirie had heard him say - the man had apparently persisted, but in a polite way, claiming he was genuinely interested in Eyes' musical preferences.

After a call to Kiyotaka to check in on the captured Hunter ("he's not talking, or so I hear"), Kirie tests out her healing arm by doing some light cleaning in her room. She suspects that a maid tidies up the loft occasionally, but the state of her temporary room has been a disaster since the week before. And that's putting it mildly.

She spends most of the morning folding, sorting, and putting away clothing - no point in living out of boxes, she thinks, when she has a closet and chest of drawers to use. The boring quilt on the guest bed is replaced with her own sheets and duvet, and she tosses a few items around the room that she's glad never made it to storage - a photo of her mother, a small gold box of jewelry (for the rare occasion she wears any), her stuffed teddy bear, the multiple books she'd been in the middle of reading.

Her arm is throbbing by the end of it, but she doesn't mind - that's what pain pills are for. She lies down on the oversized couch in the living room with her laptop and thinks about apartment-hunting, but falls asleep before she can make any progress.

* * *

That night she dreams of the shooting.

In this version she sees the face of the Hunter as she descends the steps in front of Eyes' building, sees his face twisted with hatred as he lowers his eye to the scope of a sniper rifle. She stands frozen in place, cold and frightened, knowing what will happen next - but unable to unroot her feet from the stairs.

In front of her, Eyes is moving to the car; in slow motion, the bullets are being fired. She doesn't see him get shot, only sees blood pour onto the ground -

She wakes screaming.

As soon as she realizes what she's doing she clamps her mouth shut and sits up in bed, clutching at her arm. She'd rolled onto her right side, causing her wound to start aching. She wonders if that's why...

She sits still in the bed, listening and hoping Eyes is a sound sleeper. After a minute she's satisfied with the silence - maybe she hadn't been as loud as she thought - and slips out from beneath her duvet, fumbling her way through the dark to the door. If she can just take a pain pill and go back to bed, then -

She nearly screams again when she sees Eyes standing on the other side of her door. " _Raza-kun!_ " she hisses, forgetting to use his name for a moment. "Don't do that!"

"I was only coming to see if you were hurt." He squints at her in the dark; his glasses are missing and he's wearing only a pair of loose gray pants, as if he'd immediately jumped from his bed and hurried to her door. And he probably did. "Are you - "

"I'm fine. I had a… weird dream. And I need my medication." She waves a hand at him. "Go back to bed."

He steps out of the way but doesn't return to his room, and she can hear him trailing behind her as she walks to the kitchen, retrieving the small bottle of pills that's been stored on a far countertop and unscrewing the lid. "You screamed," he says.

"Like I said. It was a weird dream." She taps a pill into her palm. "And my arm's hurting."

"Was it regarding... " He doesn't finish his sentence. "If you would like to talk about it…"

"Just - forget about it, okay?" She tosses the bottle down on the counter, going to a cabinet to retrieve a glass for water. "I'm fine, you're fine, and as soon as I take this I'm going back to bed."

"Kirie." His voice is unusually gentle. "You do not have to keep this to yourself. It is only natural to be affected by what happened."

She grits her teeth, grabbing a glass and taking it to the sink. " _I'm fine_."

"I do not believe you."

"Too bad."

"Kirie," he says again, and she can feel his gaze on her as she swallows her pill with a gulp of water. "Please."

"No."

"Kirie - "

" _Stop it_." She drains her glass and puts it in the sink, gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands. "Look, I really don't want to think about it, or talk about it, or whatever. It was a stupid dream and it doesn't matter."

She hears him moving behind her. "What was it that scared you?"

"Why can't you just - " She exhales loudly. "I had a dream about the shooting. But for whatever reason I didn't tackle you in it. That's all it was. It was a stupid thing."

His voice is quiet. "That is not stupid."

"Yes it is. Because I couldn't do anything to save you, and - "

"Why are you not more concerned about your own life?"

She doesn't know how to respond to that. She's thinking about what to say and how to say it, and trying to decide if she should give up entirely and storm back to bed, and that's when she feels the gentle touch of a hand on her uninjured arm, followed by an arm wrapped gently around her waist. She freezes, unsure what to do or how to react; Eyes doesn't speak but merely holds onto her in a half-embrace, and they stand like that in silence for a while.

After nearly a minute and a half she relaxes her grip on the countertop, her breathing becoming even, and she reaches down to tap him on the wrist. "You can let go now."

"I apologize if - "

"Don't. I think I needed that." As he draws back she turns to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm… sorry. I'm not good at talking about this kind of thing."

"Please do not apologize." He shakes his head, and even in the dark kitchen she can see the expression of concern on his face. "I know that you have been through a great many changes recently. And to be minimizing the pain and fear you must have experienced that morning… you may believe that it will help you, but I worry that you are only burying such feelings deeper within, to re-emerge at a later time."

She looks away. "It's a little late to be psychoanalyzing me, isn't it?"

He laughs softly. "Yes. You should be returning to bed. But I do hope that you understand why I was worried."

"I… yeah. I do." She sighs. "This situation… even if the Hunter's been captured, it's frustrating to think that you have to worry about being shot, and I might have nightmares about you being killed. It feels like a waste of time. It shouldn't matter anymore who you are or who I am, and what roles we played. All that we've been trying to do is live normally."

"I am more concerned about you than myself, right now." He shakes his head. "You saved my life, and now you are suffering repercussions from that. Such a thing… pains me."

"I'd say it was worth it, if you weren't such a bother."

She thinks he smiles at that, but it's hard to tell in the dark. "I am glad to know you feel that way. And so would I, had I acted similarly."

"There'd be a way bigger scandal if you got killed for me, though."

"That is not what matters." He shakes his head again. "What matters is your safety. Right now, I can think of nothing else."

"Eyes." She reaches up and punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Worry about yourself for once."

"I - "

"I mean it." She makes a face at him. "I can take care of myself. I might have saved you this one time, but there's no guarantee I'll do it again. So stop worrying about me and go deal with your own shit. Okay?"

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then smiles slightly, shrugging his shoulders. "As always, it is impossible to argue with you."

"Good. I'm going back to bed now." She taps him lightly on the shoulder again before brushing past him. "And you should too. I promise I won't wake you up by screaming again."

"But if you do…" she hears him say behind her, "I promise I will be willing to listen."

"Okay, sure," she agrees. "Good night."

"Sleep well, Kirie."

* * *

When she wakes up on Friday morning, Eyes is still asleep. But for the first time that she can remember, the door to his room is open - as if he'd wanted to be able to hear her more clearly, in case she stirred in her sleep next door.

She looks at him, lying still in his bed with an arm across his face, and thinks that somehow, in some way, things really have started to change.


	8. the first song, incomplete

On Sunday afternoon, Kirie leaves the loft for the first time in a over week, taking a short walk on her own to stretch her legs. Although it's overcast, the day is warm (a good thing, as she hasn't yet replaced the coat ruined in the shooting); May is in full swing and she's looking forward to summer, her favorite time of year.

She purposefully walks a few blocks away from the tall apartment building, coming to a corner shop with magazines in the window, and breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn't recognize any of the faces on the cover. Maybe, she hopes, they'll both be out of the news now.

She wonders, as she heads inside for a coffee and a pack of cigarettes, if it's unrealistic for either of them to hope for a normal life. As far as Eyes is concerned, she knows he's certainly done some things he isn't proud of, but even so - for making it as far as he has, and for doing what he has to change the world through music…

She may not get it, what he wants to do, but she still thinks he deserves to be a little selfish.

As for her, her involvement _had_ been strictly observational. She knows she's made it more complicated, especially now that she's appeared to have chosen a side… but she can't see any other direction to go in.

After all, the Blade Children - and Ayumu, too - they don't need to be in pain any longer. They've fought enough, and if there's something she can do to keep them from being disturbed, then she'll do it. It's reckless, but she'll do whatever she can.

She's sure, she thinks as she begins to stroll aimlessly up and down the sidewalks, that there have been more difficulties endured by the Blade Children than she knows about. But she's coming to know the challenges that Eyes has faced, bit by bit, and it's helping her understand.

And the more she understands about all this, the more pieces of his mask seem to crumble and fall away. And she knows she's letting her own guard down, but it's not like it's a bad thing. She trusts him - so what?

Still, she thinks, she doesn't want that to lead to anything stupid. Trust is one thing, sympathy is another, but beyond that…

 _Maybe there's a possibility for a friendship here_ , she muses, fishing her lighter out of the back pocket of her jeans. _Or would that just make everything worse?_

But things already seem to be changing, and so she suspects that no matter what she thinks or decides, it's already happening.

 _Damn that bottle of wine._

* * *

"Would you care to listen to a piece I have composed?"

When Kirie returns to the loft, Eyes is seated in front of his piano, leaning forward to scratch notes on a sheet of lined paper, his dark-rimmed glasses pushed up on his forehead. The expression on his face is oddly intense, and he'd asked the question the moment she'd walked into the living room - definitely unusual.

"I guess," she responds. "Why?"

"I recall you claiming to hate piano music." He puts down his pencil and reaches up to slide down his glasses. "And I have decided to convince you that it is worth appreciating."

"Oh. Right." She crosses the room to the piano and settles down on the edge of the ivory bench, crossing her legs with a sigh. "Well, don't expect me to change my mind, but if you need an audience, I guess I'm your only option right now."

She sees his lips curve slightly, as if he's trying to suppress a smile, but he doesn't respond before turning back to the keys in front of him.

And then he plays.

Kirie's first thought is that, up close, it is much easier to see how quickly Eyes moves his hands and fingers. She'd been able to appreciate his talent from a distance, of course - but seated on the bench beside him, she can see the exact movements he makes to reach every key, the stretches made for every note, the precise way he places and lifts his wrists, over and over, with the pace of the music.

And the song itself isn't like the ones she's heard time and time again, the stale Beethoven symphonies or Chopin nocturnes. It starts slow and builds a melody between both of his hands, becoming rapid, stronger, almost _vibrant_. Here, beside him, she can feel the vibrations of the strings inside of the piano, hear a clearer, stronger tone from each note.

Okay, so she's sort of getting it now - why he has so many fans, why people like this music so much. It's not bad. But this, this song, the way he is almost effortlessly building up an emotional swell of melody before reducing it to a simple, soft thread of notes, is so much _more_ than the rehearsed and rehashed pieces he's played in concert halls.

It's almost… beautiful.

Actually, no. It _is_ beautiful. _This goddamn piece of music is beautiful._

She's opening her mouth to tell him so when she hears her phone ringing from somewhere across the loft, an annoying little chirping sound that she's assigned to one specific caller. Her expression must change immediately, because Eyes abruptly stops playing, arching an eyebrow at her. "I assume you will want to answer that…?"

"I - no. It's probably not important. Keep playing."

"Kirie."

"Ugh. _Fine_." She slides off the piano bench and crosses the room, retrieving her cell phone from the edge of the kitchen island just before it vibrates off onto the floor. "It's still the weekend, you know," she greets the caller as she answers, hoping she sounds as irritated as she feels.

Narumi Kiyotaka's spirit refuses to be dampered. "Oh, but Kirie-chan, I just couldn't _wait_ until tomorrow to talk to you!"

"Cry me a river." She rubs her forehead, leaning back against the marble countertop with a loud sigh. "What do you want? Seriously, I'm coming back from leave tomorrow morning, and my arm has been fine anyway, so - "

"We have a problem." The tone of Kiyotaka's voice has changed immensely, and at the sound of his suddenly serious tone, Kirie feels her eyes grow wide. "I normally wouldn't contact you on the weekend, but I was called in today, and so…"

"What's going on?" Eyes must have caught a glimpse of her expression - she sees him standing, a look of concern on his face. "Did something happen with that Hunter? The one who shot at us?"

"Yes. But - no. It's…" Kiyotaka releases a sigh of his own. "I think it would be best to explain in person. Are you able to come to the station in the next few hours?"

"This really can't wait until tomorrow?"

"No, I think not. And if you could also bring that Blade Child of yours with you…"

"Since when is he my - " Kirie literally bites her tongue. "Fine. We'll be there in a little while. But this better be for a good reason."

"Unfortunately," he responds, "it is."

She makes a face before snapping her phone closed. Eyes has crossed the room to meet her by now, and she looks up at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Get your coat," she says, "we're going to the police station."

"... what?"

* * *

"So you're saying he couldn't have been the shooter?"

"That's right."

"Then who the hell shot me?!"

"I'm told that's still being investigated."

"Oh my _god_." Kirie slumps forward, her forehead banging so hard into the one-way glass that the suspect sitting on the other side jumps in his chair, looking around the room for the source of the noise. Beside her, Eyes looks only slightly less perturbed, but his attention is instead fixed on Narumi Kiyotaka, who is currently trying _very_ hard to force a smile.

And he's not doing so well, Kirie notices. Because it's probably pretty hard to smile, with Eyes Rutherford looking like he wants to straight up murder you and throw your corpse into the ocean.

"Explain," Eyes says - rather, demands - "how this happened."

"Of course." Kiyotaka eagerly turns away from the gaze of the Blade Child, gesturing to the figure of Coen Smit sitting alone in a interrogation room, still looking around with wide eyes (and apparently not realizing that the mirror in front of him is actually a window). "When this gentleman was taken into custody, he insisted that he had been framed for the attempt on Eyes Rutherford's life - " He pauses for effect. " - and set up by none other than the investigator named Narumi Kiyotaka."

Kirie lifts her head. "How does that even make sense?"

"Of course, to the untrained eye, it seemed like a bogus claim. A witness saw a man with black hair perched atop the Mizuho Financial Building with a rifle. You were able to give me the location and name of Coen Smit, who was apprehended with a weapon approximately two blocks east of Waseda Station only ten minutes after the shooting." Kiyotaka shakes his head. "And even when Smit-san began refusing to cooperate with the investigation, only stated that I was responsible for his being framed, it still seemed an open and shut case."

"But you're saying it's not."

"Our detectives found that the caliber of bullet used to fire upon you - " Kiyotaka gestures to Kirie - "and the one in Smit-san's gun _were_ the same, but the shooter's gun left markings on its casings that his would not. Furthermore, there was no gunpowder residue on Smit-san's hands or clothing, nor any other signs that he had fired a gun within the last several days. And he _was_ armed, when he was apprehended, but the gun had never been fired. It had only just been purchased recently."

Kirie opens her mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. Eyes speaks instead, frowning. "Then how is it that this man was found to be at the place of the shooting? He has already shown that he has knowledge of the Blade Children, and so…"

"Yes. About that…" Kiyotaka looks at the dark-haired man inside the room for a moment. "Coen Smit was, in fact, a Watcher. I knew _of_ him. But I never met him. He traveled between the Netherlands and Japan - "

"He wasn't lying?" Kirie interrupts.

The tall man shakes his head. "He told me about his intrusion into your apartment. I explained he was very lucky to be alive."

"Damn right," she mutters.

"But the situation, as it was on the day of the shooting, and even before that…" Kiyotaka shakes his head again, slowly this time. "Smit-san _was_ set up, and by a very dangerous person, it seems. He was led to believe that I was communicating with him via email for several months, giving him instructions on when and how to leave the Netherlands to return to Japan. The person posing as Narumi Kiyotaka contacted him to ask for help with the threats on your life." With this he gestures to Eyes. "He was led to believe that he was needed as a kind of… hero."

Kirie rubs the back of her neck, feeling tired of all of this and just wanting a hot bath and glass of something alcoholic. Maybe two glasses. "And he snuck into my apartment because…?"

"That, it appears, was out of genuine concern for your well-being. He knew of you as another Watcher and felt it would be best to collaborate." Kiyotaka folds his arms together. "After the investigators informed me of their findings, I had the opportunity to speak to Smit-san face-to-face this afternoon. Everything he claims can be proven - even the emails he speaks of exist on his laptop. Which, of course, he has only shown me privately. The lack of evidence with the weapon was enough to call for his freedom."

"So he's going to be released, then?" Kirie looks up at the detective. "Can we talk to him?"

"Not yet." He shakes his head. "Tomorrow is when I expect him to be officially cleared of all wrongdoing. Until then, he is still _officially_ a suspect in your shooting, and so communication with you is prohibited." A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Technically, so is discussing the details of this case with you, but I suppose I have done worse things."

Eyes mutters something under his breath that they both pretend not to hear. "Well, then," Kirie says, looking again at the black-haired man in the interrogation room before turning her back to the glass, "what happens now? This means there's still a Hunter out there, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Kiyotaka answers. "A Hunter who felt it necessary to not only threaten both of your lives, but also impersonate me in an attempt to have a Watcher framed for murder."

"Great."

"Do you have any concrete leads on the true shooter?" Eyes removes his glasses to polish the lenses on the edge of his coat sleeve, a frown creasing his features. "My driver offered his testimony, and you mentioned shell casings being recovered from the scene, correct? There should be enough to at least perform an investigation based on these items."

"As far as I am aware, there are no leads. We found Smit-san so quickly, right by the sight of the crime with a gun in his bag, and matching the description given…"

"It was well-planned." Kirie nods at Kiyotaka. "I get it. And I didn't have any reason _not_ to think it was him. We were all played here, from start to finish."

Eyes slides his glasses back on his face. "Then the true Hunter knows that their plan has failed - first to kill me, then to frame another. And…"

"And," Kiyotaka finishes for him, "he'll be trying again soon, surely."

The three of them look at each other, standing together quietly in the hallway of the station, and all Kirie can think about is the dream she had, the dream where she watched as Eyes Rutherford was gunned down in front of her, about the pools of blood spreading across the pavement as she stared, helplessly -

She won't - can't - let that happen.

* * *

"Hey."

Eyes looks across the darkened backseat of the town car at Kirie. It's late; they're on their way home from a dinner at a small restaurant by the police station, just casual enough for Eyes not to be recognized (or at least not talked about, if he had been). They'd been silent nearly the whole time, and their ride has been quiet, too, despite the driver's awkward attempts to get them talking about the weather or their choices in food.

But Kirie has just remembered something she wanted to say, even if it's not related to anything else going on. Maybe, she hopes, it will inject a little sanity back into this sudden chaos.

Eyes doesn't respond, but she sees him watching her, so she keeps speaking. "That song you played earlier," she says, "the one on the piano… it wasn't bad."

"... I see."

"I mean - it was _more_ than - not bad. It was good." She looks away, rolling her eyes at her terrible choice of words (and glad he can't make out much of her face in the dark). "You said you wrote that, right?"

"I did."

"Does it have a name?"

"Not yet." His voice is softer now, as if he's let his guard down a little. "I haven't yet finished it."

"Well, if you want to play it again when it's finished, I guess I can listen." She crosses her arms. "Maybe it'll take my mind off of some of this other bullshit."

"I will remember that." He pauses. "Thank you, Kirie."

"... yeah. Sure."

Sanity or not, she thinks, it's still worth saying: _I'll listen to it again_.

And she will. Because she's not sure what else she can do, right now.


	9. the circles they go in

She can't sleep that night.

She tosses and turns until midnight, and that's when she finally decides to give up, throwing back her futon and storming out of her bedroom. She notices the door opposite hers - the one leading to Eyes' bedroom - cracked open, and a light still switched on inside, but she ignores it and stays on her path to the kitchen.

Barely two minutes later he's standing in the doorway, watching her settle down atop a barstool with a glass of water in her hand. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"I can't sleep." She waves a hand at him. "Go back to bed."

"I see."

"And you can stop keeping your door open, by the way. I'm back to normal and I haven't had any more stupid dreams." She flexes her arm, rolling her eyes. "See? No pain."

"I believe you," he responds, taking a step into the kitchen and reaching over to turn on an overhead light. "But I cannot sleep either, I'm afraid."

"Oh." She sips from her glass, mulling over her response before she says anything else. "Because of… earlier, I guess?"

"Yes." He comes to join her at the kitchen island, pulling out a barstool on the opposite side. "I'm unable to stop thinking about the situation."

"Yeah. Me too," she admits.

They're both silent for a while, Kirie nursing her glass of water and Eyes merely sitting still, his hands folded together atop the pale marble countertop. It's the pink-haired woman who finally speaks again, clearing her throat and setting down her glass before she does so. "What happens now?" she asks. "I know you wanted to move back to Japan and live normally, but this Hunter seems intent on… getting their way."

He meets her eyes with his own. "Killing me."

"You know what I meant." She makes a face. "Do you think I _like_ talking about this? Anyway, it's one thing that this guy shot at you, but to go to the trouble of framing someone else for it… he was smart enough to have a backup plan that would keep him clear of the police if anything went wrong. Now he can try again, and - "

"That isn't it," Eyes interrupts, suddenly, shaking his head. "I don't believe that this Hunter's plan was to kill only me."

"Why would you think that?" She lifts an eyebrow. "Sure, the other Blade Children are still around, but the only ones threatened during this mess were you and I."

"And Coen Smit."

"Right, because - "

"Because he was deliberately made, over the course of several months, to believe that Narumi Kiyotaka wanted him to be at a specific location, presumably with a specific weapon, at which time he would be framed for the murder of a Blade Child." Eyes shakes his head again. "I cannot believe that this was only an attempt by the Hunter to cover his tracks. The Hunter's plan for the shooting was clearly sabotaged. If I _had_ been killed, perhaps a situation would have been created in which Coen Smit's gun _would_ have been fired. In this case, it would have been nearly impossible to prove his innocence."

Kirie frowns. "But what does that accomplish? The Hunters weren't after the Watchers, only…"

Eyes doesn't speak, and in that moment of silence - however brief - Kirie realizes her miscalculation.

"... only," she continues, quietly, "the Blade Children, and those who sided with them."

"Precisely," Eyes says, softly, and exhales. "If this were indeed his plan, then you would have been left as the only remaining Watcher… or, perhaps, in his eyes, Saver. And so, without my interference or Coen Smit's, he would have eliminated you." He glances away. "Followed by the others. Narumi Ayumu included."

 _Saver._ Kirie has never even thought to associate the word with herself - not with the woman she is, someone so critical of everything, someone who values logic above all else -

 _But it's what Ayumu-kun would call me right now, in this situation, wouldn't he? Someone who takes a bullet for a Blade Child is_ literally _a Saver._

She bites down on her bottom lip to avoid smiling in this situation that doesn't call for it; she's picturing that brat's face somewhere in the back of her mind, his eyebrows scrunched together as he gives her a lecture on what a Saver is, and how she's gone and become one. After a few seconds she pulls herself together, and she catches Eyes' gaze again as she speaks. "So you think we're dealing with someone who wants us _all_ dead… not just you."

"Yes."

"Is that what's been keeping you awake?"

"Yes," he answers again.

"I get it. Not exactly an easy topic to put out of your mind." She exhales. "But why start with you?" She taps two fingers on the rim of her water glass. "You have the most resources at your disposal to protect yourself. You could hire an army of bodyguards if you felt like it. And threatening you comes with a bunch of shit in the news." She frowns again. "It'd be easy to snipe Asazuki and Takamachi on their way to their classes or something. Or for Takeuchi, if she's already working with weapons, couldn't the Hunter configure something to explode, or… whatever?"

"It is illogical, in that sense. But perhaps I am the biggest nuisance to this Hunter."

"So it's personal, then?"

"Or he believes that _I_ am the key to unraveling the structure that Narumi Ayumu has built." Eyes is watching her fingers on the glass. "Even if Narumi Kiyotaka began the game and controlled the pawns, and Narumi Ayumu found a way to offer us salvation… perhaps it is true that I am the one who has become the leader of what remains."

"So if he gets rid of you, everything else falls to pieces?"

"I am the only one speaking publicly about my intentions. I am the one who challenged the threat by returning to Japan, by ending my recording contract in pursuit of a new dream." He glances up. "If it were to be seen as potential inspiration for those who remain…"

"It's… possible. I'll give you that." She worries the rim of her glass. "But I don't know if I buy it. It seems like it'd be so much easier to… you know." She mimics a gun with her free hand. "The others can't protect themselves in the same way. Even if you stepped in, they'd be at a disadvantage, right?"

"Then perhaps it is pride. Or a personal grudge, as I said."

"Rrgh… damn it." Her fingers slip from the glass and she nudges it away from her hand, watching as the water sloshes dangerously inside and threatens to spill out onto the marble surface. "This is all a bunch of bullshit. Neither of us should have to be dealing with this kind of thing anymore. I don't know how any Hunters would even be _around_ , much less going around shooting at people."

"That is…" Eyes' voice is soft, almost too soft to hear. "... something I have been giving a substantial amount thought to, over the course of the evening."

"... what?"

"You should not have to be involved in this any further." He doesn't make eye contact with her. "I understand that it would be a difficult undertaking, but I am willing to assist you in leaving the situation."

She blinks at him. "The hell are you talking about?"

"I am more than able to provide you with the resources necessary to find a new home and place of employment, regardless of the location. And if you would prefer to assume a new identity, or at least begin living under the cover of a different individual's information, I am certain I can find contacts willing to aid you." He looks down at his hands, which he's folded together on top of the island, almost as pale as the marble in the harsh light. "I agree that this is not something you, nor any of the others, should be subjected to. If this Hunter intends to kill me, then - "

Kirie stands up so fast that she knocks over her barstool. Eyes' head snaps up quickly, his mouth half-open, and she wonders, in that moment, if she looks as angry as she feels.

" _I am not running away_ ," she says, emphasizing every word. "Do you understand me?"

"Kirie - "

"No," she cuts him off, " _no._ Don't say another damn word. Who do you think you are? Some kind of martyr, putting yourself up for sacrifice in front of this Hunter while you let everyone else run away?" She leans forward, her eyes narrowed, refusing to break their gaze. "I'm not a coward, and I didn't take a goddamned _bullet_ for you to have you offer me the coward's way out."

His response is surprisingly calm for someone with a downright furious woman staring at him from just a few feet away. "I do not think you are a coward. I only think you are willing, like I am, to sacrifice your own well-being for the sake of others." He sighs. "And I do not want you to do it any longer."

"So you want me to run away and leave you behind, is that it?"

"I only want you to be safe -"

"But you'd stay here if I left, right?"

"... yes."

" _Fuck you_." She uses the one English curse she knows; the sudden look of shock on his face is enough to break some of the tension in the room, and she snorts, folding her arms tight across her chest. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm scared, too. Honestly, I'm scared out of my mind at what might become of me - I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, or beyond that. But that's no reason for me to run off and leave you, or anyone else, behind." She shakes her head hard. "And it's not about being a Watcher or a Saver or whatever you want to call me, it's about being a _decent human being_. I'm in this just as deep as you are now, and I'm not leaving."

He doesn't respond. She pauses for a moment, then bends down to right the barstool she's knocked over, climbing back on top and reaching for her glass of water again. "So," she says, "if you have any plans that _don't_ involve me running away to some other country and taking on a new name, let's hear them."

He's silent for a moment. The only noise in his loft is the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen behind them, and there's the faint sound of what might be a motorbike passing by on the street below. Finally he lifts his head and looks at her again. "I don't," he says.

"You don't - ?"

"I don't have any other plans."

"Then I'm not going anywhere." She drinks the rest of the water and places the empty glass back down on the marble. "I'll stay here and figure this out with you. Whether you like it or not."

His expression looks slightly pained - as if he still wants to protest, to tell her he won't allow it - but Kirie meets his gaze with a confident stare, twining her fingers together under her chin. Finally he breaks their eye contact, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. "I hadn't anticipated this kind of reaction, but I also... realize that I cannot change your mind."

She huffs. "Did you _really_ expect me to run away with my tail between my legs?"

"I am not sure what I expected." He looks at her from between his fingers. "I only wanted to find some way to protect you, so that I could then… focus on the situation at hand."

"Sacrifice yourself, you mean."

"... no." He places his hand back on the table, frowning slightly. "My intent is - _was_ \- not to stop fighting. But if this Hunter's sole reasons for appearing are personal, and ending my life would save the lives of the others…"

"There's a way out of this that doesn't involve anyone dying." Kirie tips her barstool back slightly, laughing under her breath. "At least, that's what Ayumu-kun would say, isn't it?"

"Yes," Eyes agrees, almost immediately. "It is."

"And whether or not you think that's realistic right now, no matter how horrible things are... _I_ think we owe it to him to try and find it - that way out."

"... you're right."

"I know I'm right." She allows herself to grin. "That's why I'm not leaving. If I had to face Ayumu-kun someday and tell him I left you behind to get killed… no, not even that." She shakes her head. "It's not even that, about having to face him. I'd disappoint _myself_ if I did something like that."

"But remaining in the current situation…" He frowns again. "You have been injured once already. If you were to be hurt again, or worse - can you truly say it will be worth it? The role you played as a Watcher was not one of involvement, and even now…"

"I knew what I was getting into when I joined up with Kiyotaka, Watcher or not. It was a dangerous situation for all of us. More for you than me." She leans forward on the barstool to make eye contact with him again. "I don't have any intention of sacrificing my life, don't get me wrong. But if taking another bullet from an idiot Hunter will keep you and the others safe - " She shrugs. " - I won't back down, because I know what's right, and it's not to end your lives. It's not to make you, or anyone, suffer any longer. That kind of thing has to be stopped, somehow."

The kitchen falls silent again. Eyes looks away from her, and there's something in his expression she can't quite read, so after a few seconds she stops trying. She picks up her glass and slides off the barstool, going to the sink for more water. "It's been a long day," she says. "You should get some sleep."

"You as well." His voice is barely audible. "You will be returning to work in morning… won't you?"

"Not if I can't go to bed at a decent hour." She turns on the tap and refills her glass, pausing to take a sip before turning to face the kitchen island. "But I'm out of sick time, so if I don't want to start losing money - "

"Don't worry about it." She sees him shift slightly on his barstool, looking over his shoulder at her. "I will take care of everything."

She makes a face. "You say that, but it's bad enough that I'm already living here without paying rent or any bills. And you're not working right now either, so as rich as you might have been with that record label contract you had going - "

"Kirie," he interrupts again, shaking his head. "Please. I will take care of everything. I promise you that there is no need to worry about anything, financially speaking."

She opens her mouth to scold him for cutting her off again, thinks of something, and closes it. After a pause she finally speaks: "Just… how rich _are_ you?"

He laughs quietly, the sound catching her off guard. "I very rarely look at my bank accounts."

"Accounts? _Plural_?"

"The details are not important." He turns on the barstool to face her, running a hand through his pale hair to clear it from his face. "My career has been financially rewarding up until now, but I care very little for what I have earned. If I am able to move past the current situation with this Hunter, I want to make it into something that is… rewarding in other ways, I suppose."

She blinks at him. "So… are we talking about millions here? Hundreds of millions?"

He frowns. "Kirie."

"I'm just kidding." She laughs, shaking her head at him before taking another drink from her cup. "But I'm serious, I'm not going to let you pay for everything. I should be contributing if I'm going to be living here a little while longer, even if it's by cleaning or cooking or _something_. And you are _not_ going to pay for my bills."

"But if you find that you need assistance…"

"Of course. You won't let me say no. That's how I ended up staying here in the first place." She sighs. "Honestly, Eyes, from the start of this whole thing, all you've done is worry about other people."

There's the trace of a smile on his mouth. "I am already well taken care of. My desires are very few, and if I can help others, I would like to do so."

She arches an eyebrow at him. "But there's no way anyone can help you?"

It's his turn to pause and search for an appropriate response. Finally he shakes his head, very slowly, blue eyes lifting to meet her own. "My only wish," he says, "is that this situation would… somehow… resolve itself in the way you specified earlier. In such a way that does not result in the death of you, or I, or any of the others involved. Or even further injury, if possible."

"But even beyond that…"

"I will hope for one thing at a time," he responds, turning his palms up in a slight shrug, and then slides from the barstool, placing bare feet gently on the floor. "I am going to make an attempt to sleep again. I…" He hesitates. "... I appreciate your willingness to be honest with me."

"Oh. Of course."

"I did not mean to upset you, by suggesting that you leave. I only…"

"I know. You were only thinking of what seemed best, right?" She places her glass down on the counter beside the sink. "But that's only what you thought. It's not actually what _I_ think is the right thing to do. And that's how you've always been, coming up with plans for people that _you_ think are right, and just making them happen."

"... hm."

She looks across the short distance between the sink and island, studying his expression. "Maybe I'm just the first person to stand up to you. But I hope you know I'm not doing it to make your life difficult. I'm doing it because every time you come up with one of these situations, it usually means somebody else gets saved and you get the short end of the stick, and that's not how anybody should be living. We're kind of in this together now, whether you like it or not." She reaches for her glass again. "So I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself, just like you wouldn't let me sacrifice myself."

The kitchen is very quiet. Eyes is looking at her, but she doesn't want to return his gaze, having blurted all that out. It feels a little embarrassing to be so honest with him, despite having reached that point a few times now; she still wouldn't quite call them friends, more accidental roommates with some strange things in common, and so saying what she has…

"Kirie," he says, finally, quietly, "thank you."

"I - er, sure."

"You should try to rest." Out of the corner of her eye she sees him move away from the island, walking out of the kitchen and toward his open bedroom door. "Good night."

"... good night."

She stares down at her feet, silently, wondering if maybe she'd gone too far. Maybe she shouldn't have said that - about no one else standing up to him, about him making plans for others - but it's all _true_ , so what reason had there been for her to hold back?

More importantly, she thinks they've just gone around in circles tonight, talking about running away, and avoiding this threat by sacrificing themselves, and looking for a way out that they aren't even sure exists. Right now, neither of them have any idea who this Hunter is or what their motives are.

Everything they're doing is based on guesses. It's all illogical and emotional - the way she least likes things.

She sighs. She should really get to bed. Maybe tomorrow will make things clearer. And if not, well…

She'll figure it out somehow. She always has.


End file.
